Gifted Youngster
by Old Fiat
Summary: It wasn’t the first time Scott had woken up from a dream covered in sweat, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The memoirs of Scott Summers. Mildly based on the comicverse. Please read and review!
1. Prologue: Dreams

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Summary: It wasn't the first time Scott had woken up from a dream covered in sweat, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The memoirs of Scott Summers. Part comicverse, part filmverse.

Disclaimer: I do not own _X-Men_ or any of the characters. They belong to Stan Lee, MARVEL and good old Fox.

Notes: After reading the character biography of Cyclops on wikipedia, I decided to write this. I've changed a couple of things and added in characters to suit myself though. I hope you all enjoy it!

**Prologue: Dreams**

It wasn't the first time Scott had woken up from a dream covered in sweat, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Shivering slightly, he pushed back the covers and reached up to touch his face. Cool metal and glass met his hand. He let out a breath and opened his eyes. The bedroom was still mostly dark, and his glasses made it even more difficult for his eyes to take in any light.

Not that it really mattered of course—he had had to rely on his fingertips for years. He felt his way along the night stand until his fingers met a smooth plastic cord. The room was filled with yellow light as the lamp switched on. Blinking as he tried to adjust to the light, Scott lifted himself out of bed and pulled open the curtains. The campus glowed orange from the slowly rising sun. He smiled and remembered the first time he saw the bright green lawns and smooth clean brick.

He turned away from the window and returned to the night stand, glancing at the empty half of the bed where Jean usually slept. She had gone on a mission with Storm the day before. That's why he'd had nightmares. He hated sleeping alone.

After turning off his alarm clock, he gathered up some clothes from his dresser and headed down the hallway to the shower.

In Scott's opinion, there was probably the only one annoying thing about the growth of Xavier's institute for "Gifted Youngsters"—when it was only him, Storm and Jean he got his own shower, without fear of some student walking in halfway through. Also there weren't as many people to use up all the hot water back then so you could take a shower at any time of day. Now Scott had to wake up two hours before the kids to bathe and get cleaned up.

It only took him ten minutes to get in and out of the shower so he decided, as the cook wouldn't wake up for another three hours, to go down to the kitchen and make himself breakfast. Jogging down the stairs to keep himself awake, he arrived in the kitchen only to find he wasn't the only one up in the institute. At the kitchen table sat Hailey, a small girl who had only recently come to the school. She looked as normal as Logan or Jean, but Scott knew that she could read minds almost as well as the professor. She jumped as he entered.

"Hello Mr. Summers," she said, quickly recovering from her shock. "What are you doing here?"

"I always wake up early," he said, smiling at her as he headed towards the coffee maker. "I think that I should know what you're doing here. Are you going to tell me?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, twirling some of her pale blonde hair around her fingers. "I had a nightmare."

He nodded and reached up into one of the cupboards for the coffee. "Well, tell me about it. I had a nightmare too," he said, praying that his words wouldn't reach Logan.

She hesitated, clearly unsure of whether to tell him what had woken her up.

"Come on," he said, sitting across from her at the small kitchen table. The coffee boiled on the counter as Hailey continued to twirl her hair in her fingers.

"It was about my mom," she said, trying not to look at his face so as to avoid seeing her reflection in his dark glasses. "And the day she died…" Her voice trailed off and she looked very uncomfortable.

"It's fine to be freaked out by stuff like that, Hailey," said Scott, smiling at her. He hoped he looked supporting and encouraging, like he actually wanted to hear about her nightmare when in reality he _really_ didn't. It was too close to his own dream for comfort. "Just relax."

She took a deep breath and looked up at him with her light blue eyes. "I saw it… When it really happened, I mean. I was in the car with her."

He patted one of her smooth, pale hands. "Stuff like that sticks. Just keep telling yourself that she's looking down on you, and loves you very much. It's true you know." He glanced over at the coffee pot, wishing he had something to distract himself with.

"What was your nightmare about, Mr. Summers?" she asked. Her piercing gaze seemed almost to burn holes in Scott's head. She was probably reading his mind, just in case he didn't answer truthfully.

"I dreamt about my parents, too," he said, getting up quickly to make himself toast. "And some other things."

It was _half_ true. He _had_ dreamt about his parents—more specifically, the last time he saw them—but it suddenly went dark and he had to depend on his other four senses.

"You're lying," she said with a grin.

"You shouldn't read my mind," he said. "It's not very polite."

"Why did it go dark in your dream?" she asked sweetly, cocking her head to one side in an excellent impression of innocence.

He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, allowing the memories to wash over him.

And suddenly he was back in Alaska.

**Oh! The first chapter will begin the actual childhood and stuff. I hope you guys enjoyed this. Please give me feedback and stuff.**

**-OFsI**


	2. Engine Failure

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: 'Same Mistake' by James Blunt from his album, _All the Lost Souls_.

Thank you for the support on the prologue! I was surprised I got any reviews at all! Thank you so much! Anyway, I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. :D

**Chapter One: Engine Failure**

_Anchorage, Alaska, USA_

"It's so good to have you boys back from school!" Mrs. Summers said as the whole family sat together at the dining room table. She turned towards her husband. "We should send them to a local school, not some boarding school all the way in Massachusetts."

Mr. Summers rolled his eyes at his wife. "We agreed that they should get the best education possible. I've missed you boys too though, don't get me wrong." He smiled at his two sons sitting across the table.

"We've missed you too," said Scott as he tried to blow his soft brown hair out his eyes and spoon rice into his mouth simultaneously. "I missed having dad help he with my language arts tests."

"Yes I was very disappointed with your grades in English, Scott," Mrs. Summers said, looking only a little bit angry as she got up to get dessert.

"I liked English!" shouted Alex. "I'm good at English!"

"You most certainly are!" said Mr. Summers, grinning at his youngest.

"You don't need to know about language arts to be an engineer," protested Scott. "And I'm gonna be an engineer."

"You need to be able speak English to get into university and get a job," said Mr. Summers, teasingly. Scott blushed furiously.

"Can we please stop talking about my grades in English!" he said, flustered.

"As you like it, my baby boy," said Mrs. Summers, kissing her son on the top of the head as she slid a slice of apple pie onto his plate.

"You just don't want to talk about it because I do better in English than _you_," said Alex, a smug look on his round face.

"Shut up, Alex!" shouted Scott.

"Boys! Settle down!" snapped Mrs. Summers, clearly annoyed.

There was a moment of silence while everyone just chewed their pie. Finally, Mr. Summers pushed away his plate and cleared his throat.

"I actually have a special announcement," he said happily. "I've got all of next week off and I thought I could take you all for a ride in…" he paused for effect. "But you boys wouldn't be interested."

"We are _too_ interested!" said Alex, cramming a fork full of pie into his mouth.

"Tell us, dad," said Scott, smiling in excitement. He loved having a father who was a military pilot. It meant that, if some general had given permission, he could wander around the base, looking at jets and fighter planes. If his chosen career in engineering didn't work out, he'd want to be a pilot like his father.

"I've gotten permission to give you all a ride in… _a de Havilland mosquito_."

The boys gasped in enthusiasm and anticipation. Mrs. Summers gave her husband a weary look.

"Chris, are you _sure_ it's safe to take two little boys in a de Havilland?" she asked nervously.

"Sure it is!" he said, smiling broadly. "Alex is the youngest and he's a smart boy who knows not to touch what's not supposed to be touched."

"And what about Scott?"

"Scott," he said, looking his son straight in his pale blue eyes. "Is one of the most responsible ten year olds I know. He'll make sure Alex doesn't get into trouble and maybe—if he's a good boy—he can come up and be co-pilot for a couple of minutes."

Scott stared right back into his father's eyes and his stomach flipped in excitement. _Co-pilot Scott Summers_… It sounded impressive even in his mind.

Mrs. Summers sighed and shook her head, but she was smiling. "Only for a couple minutes. He's not being co-pilot during landing or take-off, right?"

"Of course!" said Mr. Summers, but he winked at Scott after she gotten up to clear the dishes.

Scott grinned back, his heart pounding in his chest as he imagined him and his father flying together over the mountains and fields. A miniature mosquito inside his head wrote out smoky letters in the bright Alaskan sky:

_Scott Summers—Pilot Extraordinaire _

Of course, the reality wasn't quite as fantastic as the images in Scott's imagination.

He and Alex raced down the runway to reach the mosquito as Mr. and Mrs. Summers walked behind, arm in arm. The mountains surrounding the base looked rather unimpressive when stream-lined military planes sat silhouetted against the bright blue sky.

"Hurry up, Alex!" called Scott as he stopped running and turned to see his younger brother jogging half-heartedly behind him.

"I can't!" he shouted back, his round face pink from running. "Your legs are longer than mine! It's not fair!"

"Well you're too big to carry!" said Scott but he still waited for the blond to catch up with him. "Slow poke," he said, when he finally arrived, wheezing slightly.

"Shut up, bone head."

Scott wanted to say something like '_Oh real harsh language there, Alex_', but decided against it.

They walked the rest of the way, still fairly far ahead of their parents. It was a couple of minutes before the mosquito loomed before them—sleek, black and deadly looking. Its wings jutted out towards the two boys and the propellers gleamed in the sun.

"It looks almost like a _gun_," said Scott, running his hand along the cool metal.

"This is so cool," said Alex, walking around its body and even bending down to try and look beneath it.

"I see you boys like the outside," said Mr. Summers, arriving a few moments later. "Wait until you feel this baby in the air."

He opened the door and the four of them stepped inside.

"Come on," he said, shutting the door behind them. "It's time to fly."

And in Scott's mind, only moments later they were up in the air. He unbuckled his seat beat when his father said it was alright and gazed out the little window at the land outside which, in his opinion, had never been more beautiful.

"It's Scott's turn to be co-pilot now," called Mr. Summers.

Mrs. Summers bit her lip nervously, but unbuckled and allowed her son to take his place in the chair beside her husband.

"Okay, right now, I just want you not to touch anything," said his father, laughing a little.

"Why?" asked Scott, buckling his seat beat.

"Because you don't have to," he said with a grin. "This plane takes a crew of two, a pilot and a navigator."

"Oh," Scott wasn't disappointed at all. In fact he loved gazing through the window in front of them and having to pressing any buttons of steering would've probably distracted him from the pointed landscape below. The mountains shrank away as they zoomed over them and the blindingly white clouds parted as they passed.

"Dad?" asked Scott, as he looked away from the window momentarily to begin staring at the controls.

"Yes, Scott?"

"What does that blinking light mean?"

Mr. Summers looked over and Scott saw a look off horror spread over his face.

"Oh my God…" he whispered. He turned around and looked at his wife.

"Marie, get the boys off the plane!" he commanded, his whole body trembling.

"What?" she asked, confused by the order. "What are you talking about?"

"The engine has failed," he said, frantically flipping switches but the small orange light continued to flash. "Nothing's helping!"

Scott's eyes widened. "Why has it failed?" he asked, feeling his stomach flip over.

"I have no idea," his father said, his voice cracking. It was the first time Scott had ever seen him looking absolutely terrified. He pulled on the joystick, trying to get the plane higher. Scott looked out the window at the propellers as the spun, slower and slower. They were dropping in altitude now, the pressure building up in their ears.

"Marie, I'm going to try to land, _get yourself and the boys off the plane_," he commanded, pushing forward on the joystick to bring down the plane. "There are some parachutes in one of the compartments. Do it!"

Mrs. Summers nodded and got out her chair. Pulling open the compartment, she turned towards her husband.

"There's only one here, Chris! We won't make it!"

He turned around to call something to his wife when he saw Scott, pale and frightened.

"I love you, Scott," he said, giving him a small smile. He felt a lump rise in his throat as he turned away from his son back towards the window.

"Go with your instincts, Marie," he said, trying to bring the plane down slower, but they were only thirty miles from the mountains.

"Scott, get back here," called Mrs. Summers. He did as he was told, giving his father one last frightened look before stepping out of the cockpit.

"Alex, hold on to Scott," she said as she strapped the parachute on to the two of them. "Scott, when you step out of the plane, wait ten seconds before you pull on this thing, right here. See it?" She pointed towards a brightly colored tag. He nodded and looked fearfully at his younger brother. The blonde boy was crying silently, his mouth slightly open as he gasped for air.

"I love you both," she said, wrapping her arms around her sons. She pulled open the door and the wind rushed in, making it impossible to see or hear anything. Scott could feel his mother's hand on his back though, pushing him towards the open space. With a final shove he and Alex fell into the clouds.

The two boys gripped each other as the mountains rushed towards them, pointed and merciless.

_One-thousand one_, thought Scott, trying to keep his eyes closed. _One-thousand two, one-thousand three…_

He put his right hand up on the little tag, holding it tight in between his fingers.

_One-thousand four…_

He opened his eyes for moment and saw de Havilland struggling to stay in the air a couple hundred feet beside them. Suddenly, the nose of the plane dipped, falling fast towards the mountains.

_One-thousand five…_

The mosquito was dropping faster than they were, maybe only ten miles above the mountains.

_One-thousand six…_

It wavered above the pointed peaks of the mountains, trying to stay up.

_One-thousand seven, one-thousand eight…_

One of the wings hit one of the higher spikes of rock and Scott could feel his brother against him as his eyes watered from the air rushing into his face.

_One-thousand nine…_

And the de Havilland mosquito fell from the sky, crashing into the sharp stone summit.

_One-thousand ten_.

Scott pulled the tag and it tore away from the parachute. He looked at the piece of plastic in his hand and wait for the fabulous silk to balloon from his back. But nothing was happening. They were going to be impaled on the rock that was flying up towards them.

He turned in the air, bringing Alex on top of him. He prayed that they would live or that at least one of them would live.

The parachute burst from the pack when they were less than a mile from the mountains, but it was too late. Scott smashed into the rock face, cushioning Alex with his body. His head hit the gray stone and the world went black.

**Dun dun duuuun! Left you with a cliff hanger there (no pun intended). I know the plane actually would probably hit the mountain after the boys hit it, but… yeah. It was mostly for effect. I should change it, but I don't wanna.**

**Anyway, you'll notice (if you read the comics) that Scott's youngest brother, whatever his name is, and the aliens that are supposed to shoot at the ship are missing. That's because I found the third son unnecessary for my plot and cut him and the aliens… were sort of random. I just made it good ol' engine failure. **

**Please review!**

**-OFsI**


	3. Edge of the Knife

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "Toxic" by Britney Spears from her album, _In the Zone_. (Lame, eh?)

So… not that many reviews on the last chapter… I can understand, as my writing partner said, I totally screwed up the miles thing. :smacks forehead: Sorry!

But I have to say, to anybody reading this: you _have _to tell me that you're reading it. Otherwise, I'll just stop writing in it because I feel like no one's paying attention, so… It only takes a second to type out a review. Just say… I dunno… Whatever you thought about, your favorite or least favorite parts?

Now, let's get on with this!

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**Chapter Two: Edge of the Knife**

"Scott?"

The young boy lifted his heavy eye lids a tiny fraction apart and quickly shut them again. It was blindingly white outside.

"Scott?"

Scott wondered if the person would leave him alone if he ignored them long enough. He kept his eyes shut tight and hoped they'd go.

"We know you're awake."

He sighed mentally and opened his eyes to the harsh white light. He realized that he was in a hospital ward. There was a tall woman beside him in white scrubs, her blond hair scrapped back into a tight bun on the back of her head. She was giving him a concerned look.

"You've been out for quite some time, Scott," she said, tucking the cotton sheets in under him.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, his voice rough. He regretted speaking less than a second later when he suddenly became aware of a throbbing pain at the back of his head.

"You've been here before, Scott," she said, matter-of-factly. "I believe your pediatrician is Dr. McKenzie, right?"

"Oh… yeah, I think…" he said, a little confused. He was having trouble hearing what the nurse said. It was as though he was wearing a mask, like there was some sort of plastic wall between him and the outside world. All he could feeling was pain in his head, pounding against his brain.

"Your younger brother, Alex, is fine, just so you know," she said, with a small smile. There was something in her expression that didn't bode well for Scott. It was a little too… pitying. "He's pretty scraped up, has a busted leg, but he'll be fine."

"Right…"

Scott wished he could figure out why he felt so sick, why his head hurt so much. He closed his eyes again, reveling in the darkness behind his eyelids.

"Where are my parents?" he asked, keeping his eyes shut.

"They… They had died before you were found," she said slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach and he suddenly remembered. He could see it, the images floating through the dark fog of his mind, never fully materializing—the de Havilland's slow fall from the sky, his mother's embrace, his father's final smile…

"Do you remember anything, Scott?" asked the nurse as Scott reopened his eyes.

He didn't say anything but simply stared straight ahead. His parents—dead. His whole body felt cold except for the burning, pounding pain in his head.

"I can leave, if you want," said the nurse, becoming a little nervous by his silence. When he said nothing, she backed towards the door. "I'll send in someone else," she said but he didn't hear her, his mind closed to anything outside of his body.

When the door clicked shut behind her, Scott felt himself come back to life. Slowly, he pushed back the covers. He was wearing a pair of blue cotton pajamas, but a quick check over revealed that most of his body was covered was covered in bruises and cuts. There was a large cast around his torso and something was going up his back to keep it straight. He got out of bed and nearly cried out as a sharp pain ran up his legs. Biting his tongue, he headed towards the door until he felt a tug. There were a series of tubes connecting his body to various machines, stopping him from leaving.

Without thinking, he pulled one of the tubes from his arm and immediately felt woozy. After ridding himself of the other wires and attachments, he left the room, leaning heavily on the white walls.

According to a door at one end the hallway, he was in the intensive care unit. Not that he could really see it. His head felt light and his mind was scattered. One part of his brain told him to cry over his parent's death, another part told him to find Alex and another told him to just go back to the his ward.

A nurse entered the hallway and, upon seeing Scott, rushed over to him, putting his arm over his shoulders. Scott fell limp and tried to put his weight on the man next to him. Tears ran down his cheek as he was half-dragged back into the room.

"Geez, kid," said the nurse, helping Scott back into bed and starting to reconnect him to the machines. "Are you crazy?"

Scott didn't answer, he was crying too hard.

"I-I-I…" he stammered, his shoulders jerking with sobs. If it weren't for the metal rod and the cast around him, he would've been slumped over on the covers, gripping them just to release… something. "Th-they're dead!" The words echoed around the room, leaving him gasping for air.

The nurse just watched him silently, leaning on the foot of his bed. The other nurse had told him about what had happened to Scott and Alex Summers and he wished he could say anything to comfort the boy in front of him, but he couldn't think of anything. So he just watched, waiting for him to stop crying.

Finally, when the sobs had turned to hiccups, Scott turned towards the nurse.

"Can I see my brother?" he asked, taking quick gasps of air.

The nurse sat up and nodded, giving Scott a small smile.

"I'll be right back with him, okay? Don't try escaping again."

He left and, only a few minutes later, returned with Alex, pushing him into the room with a wheelchair.

"Scott!" said Alex as relief flooded through him at seeing his brother, sitting up in the long bed.

"Alex," said Scott, making himself put on a smile. He knew Alex could still see the tear tracks on his face, but he wanted to be there to support him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine…" he said as he reached Scott's bedside. He struggled to find the right words.

"I know about…" Scott allowed himself to trail off. He didn't want to say it, not to Alex. "…that," he finished, lamely.

"I heard mom and dad's lawyer talking to one of the doctors about who would pay for us staying here," said Alex, biting his lip. "They said that there's no will." He looked up at his brother.

"So?" said Scott, giving his brother an odd look. Why would Alex care about their parents' will? "We don't get any of their money until we turn eighteen. It's law, I think."

"But there's nothing saying where to put us either, in case they…" he didn't finish the sentence.

Scott felt suddenly on-edge. His future was sitting on the point of a knife, threatening to teeter into the abyss. He didn't know where he was going to be living in a month, a week, a day or even after he left the hospital—whenever that was. The nervousness was making the pain in his head even worse. His eyes burned, but he just pulled Alex towards him in a tight hug.

Their parent's lawyer, Mr. James Milbury, finally spoke to the brothers two weeks later.

"Hello you two!" he said, a huge smile on his face. His dark brown hair was neatly parted and looked very stiff from pomade. His skin was pale and when he sat down across from Scott in a blue plastic chair, he realized it was the same color as the hospital sheets.

"Hello Mr. Milbury," said Scott, not returning the smile but putting out his hand for the lawyer to shake. He was trying to be polite, though he wanted to smack the grown man sitting in front of him. Why was he smiling after the death of one of his clients?

"Oh call me James!" he said, still grinning. "My brother is Mr. Milbury. Anyway, we should get down to business, but before we do, I want to get to know you."

Scott felt a twinge of annoyance; he didn't want to talk to this man any longer than he had to. There was something in James Milbury's pale, hazel eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

"What's your favorite subject, Alex?" he said, turning towards the blonde, bearing his teeth in his out of place grin.

Alex mumbled something, too scared to speak directly to James.

"What's that? Speak up now!"

"English," said Alex, a little bit louder. He hated speaking to adults he'd never met, except close friends of his parents.

"Oh, I used to love English!" said James, pretending to reminisce for a moment before turning to Scott.

"And you, Scotty?"

Scott tensed at the nickname. Nobody ever called him Scotty. In fact, all his parents had really ever called him was 'Scott'. The childish version of his name felt foreign to his ears and he tried to keep his manners.

"Math… and science," he said, looking directly into those pale, searching eyes.

"Ah, my father was always better at the left-brained subjects," he said, laughing slightly. His laugh didn't seem real, though. It forced itself out his throat and into the room, creating a harsh commotion.

"What sports do you play?" he asked, still smiling.

Scott jumped in so Alex wouldn't have to answer. "I was on the baseball team at my school and Alex was taking karate lessons."

"Oh! Karate! Getting all that energy out in martial arts, huh? That's great. What do you—"

"Mr. Mil—I mean, James, can we get down to business please? I think the nurse said I was supposed to get fresh bandages later on today and I'd like to finish this all off today." It came out sounding a lot more commanding than Scott had meant it to and he tried not to look back into James' eyes.

"You know, you're a lot like your father," he said, his face becoming thoughtful. Moments later, it blossomed back into its grin. "Of course we should get started! What do you boys want to know first?"

Scott tried to find his voice. The 'compliment' had thrown him off. He didn't want to think about his father just then. Later, when his parents' deaths were further behind him he would think about him, smile at being told he was like his father, but at that moment he didn't want to hear it.

"I… um… uh…" he stammered, trying to speak. "I wanted to ask where we would go to live after we leave the hospital."

"Ah yes!" he said, still smiling in his fake way. "Well, my brother—the one a mentioned before, do you remember… Yes, he runs an orphanage in Omaha, Nebraska…"

His voice trailed off as the two boys stared at him, aghast. Leaving Alaska for _Nebraska_? Of course, the brothers had left their home to go to school in Massachusetts, but that was maybe eight months of the year. The idea of leaving Alaska, maybe forever, was… It was frightening.

"Omaha?" said Scott, forgetting to be polite. "Omaha, _Nebraska_?" He was shaking as James nodded. "What about the house?"

"Well, I think it's actually property of Anchorage military base so most of your parent's belongings will be auctioned off, you will each be allowed to take your clothes and one extra possession each, a favorite book or toy or something like that," he smiled. "We don't want to bring too much baggage on the plane, do we?"

Before either of them could say anything, James had stood up.

"Do you have anymore questions?"

Scott had heaps of questions—what has going to happen to his and his brother's inheritance, for instance—but James had already begun to speak.

"None? Good. I'll take you boys back to your house when you're let out of the hospital, then you'll stay the night in a hotel and the next day you'll be on a plane to Omaha."

He walked away and the two boys looked at each other, each still filled with questions.

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**Whoo! It's finally done! Sorry that took a while. I wrote one half (right after Scott and Alex's conversation) and then today decided to add the thing with James Milbury. Did he creep out anyone else? I was the one writing him and I was shivering.**

**Anyway, Mr. Milbury (the one in Omaha) will not also be Mister Sinister, like he is the comic. He just runs an orphanage.**

**I hope you all liked it! Please review!**

**-OFsI**


	4. A Universal Truth

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "Crazy Dreams" by Carrie Underwood, _Carnival Ride_.

Okay, before we begin, I want to give a big shout out to _Be-nice-to-nerds_. They are the only regular reviewer so far and gave me one of the most wonderful compliments. Thank you so much BNTN! Also thank you xxDark-Elfxx for your lovely review. I love all of them :D

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**Chapter Three: A Universal Truth**

_A train, somewhere near Omaha, Nebraska_

_It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife._

Scott read the words that sat, clearly printed, on the soft, creamy page, not quite understanding why that would be a universal truth. He thumbed back in the book to the title page and ran his finger over his mother's signature, pretending he could feel the letters rise slightly beneath his fingertips. Next to him Alex was sleeping, his soft blonde hair fluttering from the draft coming in through the window of the train. Scott could understand why his younger brother was sleeping. It had been a long day. For some reason, James Milbury had bought their plane tickets so they would arrive in Kansas City, Missouri, instead of directly in Omaha. Scott wondered if there was an airport in Omaha, he wasn't sure. He turned his eyes back to the book and tried to continue reading, but he was distracted again as he glanced over at Alex.

In his brother's hand he saw his father's set of dog tags. He guessed his father hadn't been wearing them on… on _that_ day. Scott actually would've taken them if he hadn't let Alex pick first. Scott didn't really want to join the army, but he hoped that one day he'd have a pair of dog tags like that. Because Alex had gotten to the dog tags before him, he'd taken his mother's copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. It had been her favorite story and she loved reading parts of it to him.

He went back to his book but still had difficulty focusing. He remembered what the doctor had said, quietly, to Mr. James in his ward when they thought he was asleep.

"Mr. Milbury, we know you aren't Scott Summer's guardian," the doctor had said. "But since you are in charge of his future, we think there's something you ought to know."

"What is it?" James had asked. For once, he wasn't smiling.

"Well, he sustained a very serious head injury and… we aren't sure if he has sustained any severe brain damage. Some of the blood got to his brain and we can't get all of it out," the doctor shook his head and sighed. "He seems to be fine—he's moving well and he's passed all the intelligence tests we've set him—but make sure who ever takes care of him to keep an eye out for anything that…" At that point the doctor had noticed that Scott was awake and instantly closed his mouth, and left the room with Mr. James.

Scott wondered if his inability to concentrate on the book was caused by the brain damage he'd sustained or how tired he was from all the traveling that day.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sudden shriek of brakes. The train began to slow down as it pulled into the station.

"Where are we?" asked Alex sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

"I guess Omaha," said Scott and he leaned around his brother to look out the window. "Yeah, I think so."

Alex yawned and Scott looked out the window at the station. He wasn't sure if someone would be waiting for them or if he would have to hail a taxi. If it was the latter, he wasn't sure if he would have enough money.

There wasn't anyone, but Scott had just barely enough money to pay for the ride and he almost had to pay the driver extra just because of the amount of time it took to get Alex into the back seat with his cast and crutches. However, only fifteen minutes later they were pulling up outside a large, square brick building. The only thing positive you could say about it was that the sign in front saying _Dr. Charles Milbury's Orphanage_ still had all its letters still intact, the rest of the place was… a dump. The building would've been boring if it wasn't for the graffiti sprayed along the front and sides. The grass was short and brownish, teeming with weeds and briars.

Scott gulped and pulled their suitcases out of the trunk. After paying the driver, he led Alex up the front door and, hands trembling and heart pounding, rang the bell.

Instantly, a tall, brunette woman answered. Her face was stern and unsmiling. She glared down at them for a few seconds before saying, "Who are you?"

"We're Scott and Alex Summers," said Scott, trying to smile in hopes that the woman would do the same. "Our parents are Christopher and Marie Summers. We were sent here by Mr. James Milbury, I think he's the brother of—"

"Listen kid, I don't want to hear your life-story. Just get inside before all the bugs come in," she stood aside and they quickly stepped into the main hall. Plain plaster, decorated only with a few stains, stretched before them. On either side of the walls were what seemed to be millions and millions of doors, all identical except for a tiny plaque on each one saying things like '_Dr. Jennifer Hudson_' (Scott assumed this meant it was Dr. Hudson's office, whoever Dr. Hudson was), '_Infirmary_' or, the most baffling, '_Test Room_'. Scott wondered what happened in the test room and finally guessed that it was for exam preparation.

"Come with me," said the tall, brunette woman, gesturing to them to follow her.

"Where are we going?" asked Scott, struggling under the weight of both his and Alex's suitcases.

"I'm taking you to Dr. Milbury's office. Come on," she strode confidently down the hallway, taking very long steps and leaving Scott and Alex trying desperately to catch up. At the end of the hallway they reached a door right next to a stairwell on which the plaque read '_Dr. Charles Milbury_'. The woman pushed it open and walked in, head held high.

"Scott and Alex Summers," she said in a bored voice, waving a hand vaguely in their direction.

Dr. Milbury looked up from the papers on his desk at the two boys. He looked very different than his brother. Charles Milbury was neither thin nor tall, like James was. He was round and egg-shaped, his circular head covered with thick black hair which, clearly, could never be tamed with pomade or gel. His shoulders were hunched, but, like his brother, immediately put on a big smile when he saw Scott and Alex.

"The Summers boys!" he said, standing up from his chair and reaching the brothers with surprisingly few strides considering how short his legs were. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. I'm very sorry about your parents by the way, such an awful way to go. I met your father once and he was a very great man, very proud of both of you. And I met your mother, such a beautiful woman. She was pregnant with you, Scott, at the time. Aren't you the eldest, Scott? Yup, I thought so. Both of you—take a seat! Mildred, thank you for bringing them in. Very kind of you. You may return to your work. Thank you."

Scott was amazed at how many sentences Dr. Milbury could produce in a single breath and how he never paused between any of them. He set down the suitcases and walked with Alex over to the two seats in front of Charles Milbury's desk.

"So!" said Dr. Milbury, seating across from them behind his desk. "So…" He smiled at the two boys, his pale blue eyes shining. "How was your trip?"

Scott couldn't think of any way to say "cramped, tiring, boring and long" without sounding rude so he simply said, "Good."

"Good, good," said Dr. Milbury and the smile slid off his face. Suddenly, his eyes no longer shone—they stared. His mouth sat in a stern, icy frown. "You boys understand that my orphanage is going to be different then your old home, right?" He didn't wait for a response, but just plowed straight ahead. "I do not stand for laziness, back-talking or complaining from any of the children here. I do not allow any midnight snacks, early morning prowls or late nights. If you are outside your dormitory at nine PM you will be locked out. If you are outside the orphanage after nine PM you will be locked out. I refuse any of the children here to get grades below eighty percent in _any_ subject. And I don't just mean academic subjects. You will not speak unless spoken to. When asked how you like this orphanage, you will say that you love it, _or else_."

"But—" Alex started, his brow furrowed.

"And no '_if_'s or '_but_'s," finished Dr. Milbury, smoothly cutting off Alex.

Confused, Scott opened his mouth to speak.

"_No speaking unless spoken to!_" shouted Dr. Milbury, slamming his hand against the desk and standing up. "You will obey all my rules or you will be punished." Taking a deep breath, he sat back down again. "On the third floor there are two rooms, number sixty-three and sixty-five, side-by-side. They're for you two. The bathroom is at the other end of the hallway. There is one bathroom per floor and dinner is at six o'clock." He bent back down over his paperwork. "Goodbye," he said, waving his hand towards the door.

Scott was still blinking in bewilderment when they began climbing the first flight of stairs, trying to balance the suitcases and help Alex up on his crutches.

"Why did he start acting like that?" asked Alex in utter puzzlement.

"I have no idea…" said Scott honestly.

The third floor hallway was very similar to the first and second—stained plaster walls and endless doors labeled this time with numbers. It only took Scott a few minutes to locate their rooms and when he opened the door he was severely… disappointed. The room itself was less than half the size of his old bedroom. One small window showed a view of the short concrete wall that surrounded the building and a bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, giving a feeling of filth that the room _really_ didn't need more of.

And it turned out sixty-three was almost exactly the same as he discovered when he finished unpacking and went to help his brother. Alex sat on the bed, his face crumpled as tears fell down his cheeks. Scott rushed to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"It's okay," he said, pulling him closer into his chest. He could feel his brother's tears seeping through his t-shirt. "It's all gonna be okay… I'm here…" Alex dug his fingers into Scott's arm, gasping for air through his sobs.

"We'll be okay…"

--

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**Whoo! I like this chapter a lot actually. Took a while, but I like it. :) I'm proud of Dr. Milbury. He's… creepy. Just like his brother! XD**

**-OFsI**


	5. Drive Away

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: Random songs on shuffle.

Thanks BNTN, Semiserious and Enqueri for commenting on the last chapter. I will be keeping this story in the film section since it's only _based_ off some of the things in the comic. You don't need to have read them to read this. I haven't. :D

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**Chapter Four: Drive Away**

Scott would've stayed there hugging his brother all night, he wanted too, but he was afraid they would get in trouble for missing dinner too. After helping Alex mop up his tears in the bathroom, he helped him unpack. When they went back into the hall, it was packed with children of all different ages, chatting to each other. A skinny teenage girl pushed past them, nearly knocking Alex down.

"Hey watch it!" said Scott without thinking.

The girl spun on her heel to look at him, her long blonde ponytail whipping around as she turned. Scott felt fear rising through his body as she looked at him with warm hazel eyes. Would she kill him for yelling at him? Or would she simply torture him throughout his (hopefully short) time at the orphanage.

"I'm sorry!" she said and ran over and bent down next to him to help up Alex. "Did I knock you down? I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," said Alex, blushing slightly as she and Scott pulled him up on his crutches.

"I'm really sorry," she apologized again and smiled at them. "My name is Annabelle. I've not seen you two around here before, are you new?"

Scott nodded, still slightly embarrassed from yelling at her. "I'm Scott and this is my brother, Alex."

"Well, come on. We'll get in trouble if we're late for dinner," she smiled and gestured for them to follow her.

As the brothers sat beside each other at the table, the first thing the two of them noticed was that for such a huge crowd of kids, it was oddly silent at the dinner tables. Scott was the first to notice the plaque on the wall near the door stating: _NO TALKING_. He pointed it out to Alex, who merely nodded, too exhausted to give any other response.

In front of them were their meals—cheap, TV-dinner style microwave packs in which the peaches had those untrustworthy looking brown corners and the meat was always dry. Scott pealed back the plastic covering from his own and then Alex's. True to tradition, the meals were horrible, but as they ate Scott began to notice the strange eye contact and symbols going on between the kids. A girl sitting across from Annabelle would tap the table once, getting the blonde's attention, proceed to twirl her plastic spork over the peas then press it to her lips. Annabelle nodded and responded by tapping her own knife against the top of her burger and dipping her spork in the tiny cup of ketchup.

When she saw Scott staring, she smiled and mouthed, "_I'll explain later_." So all he could do was watch the other kids, all varying in ages from five to eighteen, complete similar actions with their cutlery. She did explain directly after dinner, though, as they helped Alex up the second flight of steps.

"It's a kind of code," she said calmly as the others pushed past them. "I dunno who came up with it, but they were a genius. It means we can all talk over dinner and stuff. We have like, _no_ time otherwise. I can give you a paper with all the symbols written on it. It's really complicated, but as long as you're silent then you don't get in trouble."

"Thanks," said Scott, grinning at her. It was strange to him that a girl so tall and amazing looking as her would want to talk to a kid like him, but there she was with her arm around Alex, helping him up the stairs. The way she spoke reminded him of… No. No, no one was like his mother. She was unique, with her long red hair and green-brown eyes. No one was like her. But Annabelle did have a certain mother-like quality, probably because of her soft, reassuring tone of voice and sweet smile.

"It's nothing," she said as they reached their floor. "Look, just wait here for a second and I'll go get it."

She dashed quickly in a room with the numbers _68_ painted cleanly on the door's surface and returned only a few seconds later with several pieces of graph paper clutched in her hand.

"Here you go. Learn it quickly over the summer, while you have time. It's really hard to make time during the school year," she handed him the papers and headed back towards her room. "See you tomorrow!"

Scott looked down at the paper. It was covered in neat, slanting cursive and the occasional sketch. Some of the things meant words, some meant letters. It was complicated, but he was determined to learn it.

He turned towards his brother and took a deep breath, causing a sharp pain to rush through his torso. To matter what the nurses at the hospital in Alaska had said, he still wasn't sure that his ribs were completely healed.

"Let's get ready for bed, okay?" It was nearly seven and he didn't want him or his brother being locked out of their dormitories.

Unfortunately, some of the other kids at the orphanage had had the same idea, so the brothers had to wait a good thirty minutes to get into the one bathroom meant for twenty people.

That summer passed quickly for Scott and Alex, by mid-August, though, they were both fairly fluent in the Dr. Milbury's Orphanage sign language. They fell into the bizarre routine of the orphanage, making friends with some of its inhabitants. Scott never really got to speak to anyone who went into the test room though; he didn't get to find what happened in there. Annabelle told him most of the kids who went in there lived on the top floor and weren't allowed out unless they were going in the test room and that their dinners were brought up by Mildred, the tall, brunette woman who had "welcomed" them into the orphanage.

Annabelle had also told him that almost no one was ever adopted. Occasionally, a person would be randomly selected and Dr. Milbury would push and push for them to be adopted, and they would be. Mostly he would select the kids under five, who didn't eat with the rest of them and were small enough and cute enough to be wanted.

A year passed—Scott was now about to enter middle school. The elementary school that Dr. Milbury had the kids going to was nothing like his old school. The teachers didn't seem pleased when you knew the answers to questions at this school and once after his brand new tennis shoes had been stolen, he had told the principal who had done it and all he'd done was shrug. He hoped the middle school would be better, but it turned out only to be about the same.

It was the first day of middle school, he had just returned to the orphanage when Mildred marched up to him.

"You have to go to Dr. Milbury's office, now," she said, and immediately began walking towards the end of the hallway. Scott followed her at a jog.

"Where's Alex?" he asked. His brother should've come home at the same time as him. They usually met each other at the bus stop, but the boy hadn't come off the big yellow bus for the elementary school.

"He had to come back to the orphanage early," she said flatly. The simple sentence made Scott's stomach turn.

Mildred opened the door to Dr. Milbury's office and pushed Scott inside.

He stumbled in and was surprised to see a middle-aged man and woman sitting in front of Dr. Milbury's desk. The woman turned around and looked at him with sharp gray eyes.

"Is this Alex's older brother?" she asked with a big smile. Dr. Milbury made a motion for him to sit down and, tentatively, Scott sat in the empty seat between the couple. "I'm Kristen Gale and this is my husband," she said, gesturing toward the man. "Samuel Gale. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"My name is Scott Summers. Nice to meet you too," he said, trying to smile, but feeling suddenly shy as the woman looked at him.

Dr. Milbury smiled at him, which perturbed Scott.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gale are planning to adopt Alex, Scott," he said, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

Scott looked up at him, horrified.

"To… adopt…" he said, looking at the couple.

Mrs. Gale smiled at him again and patted his hand. "We want to adopt _both_ of you," she said, soothingly.

"Oh…" Scott sighed in relief. "Okay then…"

Mr. Gale spoke to him now, his tanned face containing only smile lines. "Me and my wife are planning to retire to California. Have you ever been there?"

Scott shook his head. "I used to live in Alaska and went to school in Massachusetts."

"Alaska! Wow!" Mr. Gale said in surprise. "I've always wanted to go there. I've heard it's beautiful."

"It is," said Scott, suddenly remembering the light, mountainous landscape. He hated the flatness of Nebraska.

"We've always wanted to have children," said Mrs. Gale, biting her lip. "But we've never been able to. Then my sister suggested adoption, and it seemed… wonderful."

Scott imagined for a moment, living in California with Mr. and Mrs. Gale and Alex. All of them together as a family. Mrs. Gale was right. It did seem wonderful.

"I'd love to live in California," said Scott, smiling. He would miss Annabelle and his other friends, but they could call or write letters to each other. "With you two… And Alex…"

The couple grinned down at him and he could glimpse their lives together.

Dr. Milbury cleared his throat and the three of them turned towards him.

"Well, how about you go up to your room, Scott. I have a few things to discuss with Mr. and Mrs. Gale."

Scott gave the couple one last smile, and left, shutting the door behind him. He ran up the stairs and barged straight into Alex's room. His younger brother gave him a big smile.

"California!" said Scott and sat down the bed beside him. "California!"

--

After school a week later, Scott was once more brought to Dr. Milbury's office. He sat in front of the desk, feeling a lot happier than he had in a long time.

"Scott," began Dr. Milbury, looking at him with his cold eyes. "You remember Mr. and Mrs. Gale, the couple you met last week, right?"

Scott nodded, smiling.

"Well, I have some… bad news about them." Scott's stomach seemed to drop inside him. "They'll only be adopting Alexander. You see, they can't take care of some one who… has suffered such… physical trauma as you."

"What do you mean?" said Scott, trying to keep his voice steady. "Both me _and_ Alex fell from that…" he trailed off, keeping his eyes on Dr. Milbury's face.

"I know. But you received more brain and spinal damage than him." It was stated so bluntly that the shock of the sudden remembrance of the conversation between James and the doctor made Scott visibly twitch. "The doctors don't know what it affected and it might change something in the long term. They simply can't take care of you."

He stared at the round man that stood before him, unpitying.

"But they aren't going to adopt Alex either, right? They can't just pull us apart. We're _brothers_."

"You aren't Siamese twins, are you?" said Dr. Milbury sarcastically. "Alex will be adopted by them and move on to a better life." His eyes glinted. "Unless you want him to be stuck here—because of you."

Scott looked down at his knees. He wanted Alex to be happy and even if it meant them being separated, he'd be better off anywhere but the orphanage.

"Fine…" he said, taking a deep breath. "Okay…" He stood up. "May I go to my room?"

"Yes."

And by November, Alex was leaving the orphanage.

He hugged Scott as he stood outside the taxi that was going to take him and the Gales to the airport.

"I don't want to go without you!" he said, clearly miserable.

"Alex," said Scott, struggling to smile. "You'll be fine with the Gales. I promise. Mrs. Gale has given me the address of their house in California and we can write to each other. Okay?"

They hugged again before Alex slid into the taxi and sped off to the sunny shores of the west coast.

--

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**POOR SCOTT!! :cries: I do torture these boys so! Sorry about the awkward time lapses in this chapter. I didn't write that very well. Anyway! I think, other than that (majorly important) stuff, this turned out fairly well. Yay me!**

**-OFsI**


	6. A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "Stronger" by Kanye West from his new album, _Graduation_.

Ugh, sorry about the huge wait on this and the last chapter. I suck. But… here I am again! Anyway, on to the story!

Oh yeah, I'm sorry for the stupid chapter title. It was all I could think of. Yes, I _do_ know that it's the title of Panic At the Disco's first album. I actually don't own it, but I bought _Pretty. Odd._ recently and I absolutely adore it!

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**Chapter Five: Fever You Can't Sweat Out**

Scott fell back on to his bed. He felt empty without Alex there with him. Gazing around the room, his eyes fell on his small stack of books. Mostly consisting of comics, the top book was his mother's copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. He bent over and picked it up, hoping he could read it now instead of aimlessly flipping through the shabby pages. He couldn't and ended up spending almost thirty minutes just tracing his mother's signature with his fingers. Finally, with a huge sigh, he started on his homework. After all, what else did he have to do?

At around six o'clock, there was a sharp knock on his door and Annabelle came in.

"I'm really sorry about Alex… I saw them moving the stuff out of his room this morning."

"I miss him," said Scott, trying to concentrate on his history textbook and failing miserably. "A lot…"

"I will too. You have his address, right?"

He nodded and quickly wrote something down on his sheet of note paper.

"Well, maybe we can both write letters to him tomorrow, okay? Come on, we have to get downstairs for dinner." She gave him a hopeful smile and gestured for him to follow her.

"I'm not really hungry," he said. "I think I'll just do my homework."

"Oh, well… Okay then. See you later!" She left, quietly shutting the door behind her. Scott sat by himself for quite sometime until there was another knock on the door.

He turned away from his notes once more as the door opened to reveal Mildred.

"You aren't at dinner," she stated plainly as she stood in the doorway.

"I'm not very hungry," he said, suddenly worried if there was some other rule he'd broken by not going downstairs for the meal.

"Don't be so nervous," she said, seeing his worried expression. "Look, you need food. How about you help me with the top floor kids and then you can bring something up for yourself."

It was the kindest thing any adult in the orphanage had ever said to him and he looked at her in astonishment.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," she said and smiled. Her stern face softened as she looked at him. "Come on."

He followed her down to the kitchens. He'd never been there before. In fact, he'd doubted there were any kitchens, considering how packaged their food was. But he saw her ladle some soup into bowls for the top floor kids and place them neatly on four trays.

"You take that one, okay?" she said, picking up one of the trays and, pausing only to steady it on her hands, began to climb back up the steps. It took them six flights of stairs to reach the top floor. The first thing Scott noticed about the top floor was that there had to be twice as many rooms on this level as on his floor, which shocked him, because his room was already pretty tiny. The second thing he noticed was that the doors up here weren't labeled with plain, painted numbers, but instead weren't marked at all. On each door there was a small flap and a small shelf beneath it. Mildred gave each door a soft knock before lifting the flaps and placing the bowls of soup on the shelves. Scott mimicked her and tapped his knuckles against the smooth wood before sliding in the soup.

As he did this with one of the doors, he heard a voice say in almost a whisper, "_Thank you._" The voice was so soft and sad sounding that Scott had to fight the urge to fling open the door and talk to the person inside.

"Why are they up there?" he asked Mildred as they headed back towards the kitchens for the third time to get Scott his dinner.

"They…" she seemed to be struggling for words. "They're… They're a danger to the other children."

"Oh… Why do they go in the test room then?"

She gave a little sigh. "I shouldn't have been nice to you. You ask too many questions."

Scott ignored the comment. "Why though?"

"So Dr. Milbury and the others can perform tests to see if they're getting…"

"Better?" suggested Scott.

"Not especially better but… Ah! Never mind. Just drink your soup."

Scott did as he was told and then went back up to his room to finish his homework.

--

_Scott—_

_Thank you so much for the birthday card and the cool book. It means so much. I really like getting your letters. How is Annabelle? Have you asked her out yet? (I know you think she's cute. Don't try to lie to me Scott. Ha ha!) _

_Things have been going really well here. Kristen and Samuel were saying that maybe I can visit you this summer. Wouldn't that be totally awesome? We should go to that one pool in the big hotel a block away from the big library. It's that where it is? Anyway, I don't remember. _

_Anyways, my birthday is going to be at the big park in the next town over. I'm inviting all my friends and it's going to be _so fun_. I wish you could be there though. I miss you!_

_Oh yeah, I dunno if I told you this in my last letter, but I'm in the school play! We're doing _You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown_ and I'm playing Charlie! Isn't that cool? I'll send you any photos that are taken of the performance. _

_Write back soon!_

_-Alex_

_(Ps, I can't believe I'm twelve years old now! It feels so weird!)_

Scott carefully folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. He knew Annabelle would want to hear all the new news with Alex at dinner. It was weird writing to Alex. He wished he could just call him or, even better, just say everything to him in person, instead of having to laboriously write out the events of the past couple days since he'd last written. Still, he diligently wrote to his brother twice a week and kept all his letters back in his old broken tin lunch box.

A lot had changed in two years. Scott himself had gained several inches and started looking a lot more… well, grown up. He had also developed a pretty close relationship with Mildred. Whenever he felt down about anything, she would invite him to help her with the top-floor kids and then get him a bowl of soup.

Annabelle actually had turned seventeen only a few weeks earlier. In only a year, she would graduate and be allowed to leave the orphanage. It made Scott feel sick to think about it, so he attempted to squash the thought to the back of his mind.

Yawning, he glanced at the clock that sat on his bed-side table. Fifteen minutes until six. He'd better head downstairs and write to Alex latter that night. Opening his door he jogged down the steps with a few other kids who had decided to come down for dinner early. As he entered the dining room, he saw only twenty kids, scattered around the room. Well, it was pretty early. Usually he joined the big pack that came down only a minute or two before six, but today he had to save a seat for Annabelle to give her an Alex update.

He plopped down in one of the chairs and swung his legs up and on to the one beside him to show it was reserved. He stared vaguely at the _NO TALKING_ plaque near the door until Annabelle came over to him. She smiled and he smiled back. Once they got their meals, he told her what was up with Alex and she told him about her English teacher who took ten points off her perfectly-crafted essay because she'd used a semi-colon instead of a comma or dash. Even though he didn't really understand, Scott nodded sympathetically.

About half-way through their conversation, something akin to a shell went off in Scott's mind.

"Ah!" he shouted, putting his hands on his head. Everyone was staring at him, but he couldn't really see them. Something was burning behind his eyes and his head felt like it was about to split open.

"Scott, are you okay?" asked Annabelle worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"It's my head…" he said, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. It felt like explosion was happening inside his skull. He could barely feel Annabelle's hand as she rubbed his back.

"Scott, what's wrong?" she asked, tracing tiny circles into his shoulder blades.

He forced himself to look at her. The harsh fluorescent light in the dining room doubled the force of the headache. He gave a small gasp and blinked several times, trying to ease the pain.

"I-I.." he started, taking short, sharp breaths.

"Scott. Annabelle."

They both turned around to see Dr. Milbury gazing back at them.

"Can either of you read?" he asked, pointing to the plaque near the door.

"Yes, Dr. Milbury," said Annabelle quickly. "It's just there's something wrong with Scott. I think he's got a headache or something…"

Scott looked up at Dr. Milbury. His heart beat rapidly as the pain pulsed through his head.

"Well then, he should go to bed," said Dr. Milbury and, grabbing one of Scott's arms, yanked him up on his feet. "Go along then. And don't cause any more disturbances." He stalked out of the dining room leaving the kids in a pregnant silence.

"I think I actually will go to bed," said Scott to Annabelle. "It's alright, actually. I probably just need sleep."

"You sure?" she whispered, looking concerned.

"Yeah," he said with a small smile. "I'll be fine. See you tomorrow."

It seemed to take an eternity to climb up all the steps to his room and by the time he'd shut the door behind him, his head felt like it was on fire.

Pulling off his shirt, he opened the tiny window to let in the chilly spring night air. His head still felt as through it was burning though. He tugged off his trousers and collapsed on the bed.

He remained in a half-conscious state through the whole night. His body flushed and feverish, he spent most of the night tossing and turning in his bed. The sheets tangled around his legs, cutting off circulation to his feet. He struggled for air and finally at around four in the morning, he lay still.

He awoke the next morning, calm and quiet. A warm sun beam was hitting his face and he felt nice and cozy in the sheets. He stayed like that a while, wrapped in a nice blanket cocoon with the sun warming his face. After a while, he began wondering what the time was. Groaning a little, he slowly opened his eyes.

_Boom!_

A beam of bright red energy burst from Scott's eyes and he quickly shut his eyes. The damage was done though. The beam hit the concrete wall in front of him and blew a hole straight through it. Clouds of dust filled the room and Scott coughed, heaving for air, as he tried to find where he was in the room. He could work out whether he was on the bed or the floor or the ceiling. He opened his eyes again and another burst of energy flew through the wall, widening the hold he'd created. He shut his eyes again.

He could hear pounding feet in the hallway and some people screaming outside the door. Standing up, he tried to walk towards the door.

He nearly fell over as he found himself tottering on edge of his floor, so close to falling. The door opened and he could hear voices. He spun around to face them and toppled from the crumbling edge.

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**MWAHAHAHA!! Cliffie! (No pun intended!) I bet you're all gonna kill me, aren't ya? Man, I'm sorry for the poor writing in this chapter. I just needed to get it done. Now I'm at a point that I've got more "plotted". Actually, no. I don't plot anything. I just figure out a beginning, an end, and a few things to happen in between and they're never written down. XD**

**Please review! You don't even need to have an account to do so. I take anonymous reviews!**

**-Old Fiat s. Italy**


	7. Tests

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "Who's Got My Back Now?" by Creed from their album, _Weathered_. (This song is so cool! Please check it out. It'll totally blow your mind.)

Whoops! There was a mix-up in the last chapter towards the end. I had accidentally put "Mr." Milbury instead of "Dr." Milbury. Sorry for that. It'll be edited soon. :D

By the way, **SKY**, I like your idea of going back into the present (yes that does make sense XD). That will happen at the end of the story, actually. I'm not sure if I'll be doing in while story progresses, but I like the idea. Thank you for your review. :)

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**Chapter 6: Tests**

"_What will happen to him, Dr. Milbury?_"

"_We need to run a few tests, but I have a feeling…_"

"_Should we begin moving his things?_"

"_Not until we're certain of the tests._"

"_When will you start doing the tests? I need to begin feeding the other ones soon._"

Scott could hear the people whispering around him. He recognized only two of them—Dr. Milbury and Mildred. The others he wasn't sure of. One of the voices, the one which he had heard first, was a young man's voice, probably no older than twenty-eight or thirty. The other was a woman's voice. Scott pictured her to be around forty or fifty.

He could feel something wrapped over his eyes as well. It itched a little and he yearned to tug it off, but curiosity kept him still. He needed to hear what they were saying. It was about him, he was sure of it.

"_I'll probably be starting them in about thirty minutes. You should start on the others now though._"

That was Dr. Milbury, Scott knew. He heard someone walking away and a door shut. Mildred had left. But he knew where he was now—the test room.

Resisting the urge to sit up and pull off whatever was over his eyes, Scott lay still and listened. Someone was bringing over something on wheels, he knew because he could hear one of them squeaking. Somebody else was taking apart something, he could hear a funny mixture between a squeak and a pop as whatever it was got split up.

"_What kind of sample are you going to take?_"

"_Some blood and maybe a bit of saliva._"

"_Shouldn't make sure he's unconscious first?_"

"_We'll hold him back if he wakes up. Any drugs would taint the blood._"

Scott tensed as somebody grabbed his arm. Whoever it was paused in their action, still holding his arm up.

"_You're awake, aren't you Scott?_"

It was Dr. Milbury speaking, and Scott was pretty sure he was the one hold his arm. He had been caught.

"Help!" he yelled, trying to jump off whatever he was lying down on. One of his legs connected painfully with the steel cart that had been wheeled over before. In his kicking frenzy he pushed back the gurney he'd been lying on. Dr. Milbury was still holding on to one of his arms, someone grabbed the other and another person took hold of his legs and hoisted him back on to the gurney.

"Stop! Stop it!" he screamed as a needle sank into his arm. He could feel it in his skin, drawing out blood from him. The assistants held him on the gurney as he struggled to get away. "Get off me!"

Suddenly, there was a piece of cotton in his mouth. It felt disgusting against his tongue and gums and he tried his hardest to spit it out. He wished he could see what was happening. "Help me!"

Someone was strapping him down to the gurney with leather bands. They rubbed painfully against his wrists and ankles as he tried to work his way off.

"Let me go!"

"_Maybe we should stick something else around his mouth,_" the young man's voice suggested sarcastically and Dr. Milbury chuckled.

"_Jennifer, I need you to take him far away. See if he can control these… things. Do it as soon as possible._"

"_How should I take him?_"

Scott tried to worm his hands out of the straps, but they were too tight. He flung his body every way possible and accidentally hit his head several times on the metal frame of the gurney.

"Let me go!" he shouted at the top of his voice. "Let me go!"

"_Take him in the black car to… some sort of field or something. Make sure his head is pointed up towards the sky so he can't hurt anyone._"

Dr. Jennifer walked over towards Scott and began undoing the straps.

"Don't touch me!"

"_Can't I do anything to him to make him shut up?_" she asked in an exasperated tone.

A needle sank into Scott's arm and he felt any energy he had before dull until he was almost unconscious. He drooped in the gurney, breathing heavily and still attempting to struggle away from the doctors around him.

"_That'll wear of in thirty minutes, that way he'll have full power to stop… what ever those things are. Make sure to put him in something that will keep him still._"

Scott was let off of the gurney and half-dragged, half-carried out of the test room by Dr. Jennifer. He tried to move away from her, but she just held him tighter. He held a door open and soon felt a cool spring breeze. He reveled in it for a few moments as Dr. Jennifer pulled him along, but was soon shoved into the back seat of a car. He felt her slip his hands into something, but had no energy to fight back. The handcuffs clicked and another pair was put around his ankles.

The car ride went by in a half-conscious blur. He could vaguely hear Dr. Jennifer listening to a news report on the radio through most of it and feel the bumps as they pulled off the main road.

Soon after, he was pulled back out of the car and slowly led through some sort of field with mid-calf length grass. Scotts ankles were starting to itch and throb from the cuffs. He could feel his energy slowly beginning to return and his half-hearted tries to get away from Dr. Jennifer soon became fully fledged challenges and endeavors.

"Let me _go_!" he screamed for the fiftieth time. "Get off me! Leave me alone!"

_Smack!_

He fell to the ground when her hand connected with his cheek and made no effort to get up. The hot anger and indigence that had pounded through his body before was replaced cold fear.

Soon, she yanked him back on his feet and began dragging him through the grassy field.

"_Here we go,_" she said, stopping and then steadying him on the ground. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back so his face was pointing straight upwards. "_If you dare move your head from this position, I'll kill you and make it look like an accident._"

He felt his heart pumping faster and faster as whatever was over his eyes was taken off.

"_Now, look up and try to stop whatever it is that you do._"

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The same red beams of energy shot out from behind them, flying right up into the clouds.

"_Stop it!_"

Scott tried. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do to stop it, but he did everything he could think of. Finally, exhaustion kicked in and he collapsed sideways, his eyes shut.

"_I told you to stop it, Scott,_" said Dr. Jennifer, her voice icy. "_Why didn't you?_"

"I don't know," he said hoarsely. "I did everything I could think of."

Something was wrapped over his eyes and she led him back to the car, roughly pushed him into the back seat, and drove back to the orphanage as quickly as possible.

He was placed on the gurney again, but this time remained silent, and Dr. Jennifer walked back over to Dr. Milbury.

"_How did the test results come out?_" she asked.

"_Send Mildred to prepare a room for him with one of the others on the third floor,_" said Dr. Milbury, pulling off his gloves. "_We've got another one._"

--

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**Whoo hoo! A chapter in which nothing happens! Well, stuff did happen, but not that much. Who can guess why Scott can't control his optic blasts?**

**I take all reviews, anonymous or not!**

**-OFsI**


	8. Intermission: Patience

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "Keep Holding On" by Avril Lavigne from her album, _The Best Damn Thing_.

Okay, I'm really foully sick, so I thought I should give you guys (another) update! I've taken all of your advice and done a sort of intermission between the two story halves to check up on reality.

Also, I'm only half sure about where the internal bleeding is in Scott's brain. I assume it would be the motor cortex or the cerebellum and so I picked the motor cortex. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this!

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**Intermission: Patience**

"Professor Summers?"

Scott reopened his eyes, his breath coming in long, shuddery gasps. Turning away from the counter, he faced Hailey and tried to look composed.

"Yes?" he asked, a shaky smile on his face.

"Why couldn't you control your optic blasts?" She looked genuinely concerned, her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"You really should stop reading my mind," he said jokingly, pouring himself a pot of coffee. "You might come across something inappropriate."

She giggled. "I'm serious. Why?"

"I sustained brain damage in the plane crash," he said, seating himself across from her. "There was blood trapped in areas of the motor cortex that they've never been able to get out." He bit his lip. "Not even the Professor could fix it."

Hailey patted one of his hands, trying to be comforting. "I think your glasses are cool."

He laughed. "Thank you. You don't have to say stuff like that."

She looked at him with her almost colorless eyes. "So what happens next in the story?"

"You want to hear your math teacher's life story?" he asked incredulously, laughing again. She nodded, looking truly interested.

"We have one and a half hours to kill before everyone wakes up," she said matter-of-factly. "I doubt you'll be going back to bed and I know I won't be—what else have we got to do?"

"Eat breakfast?" suggested Scott, still grinning.

"We can eat while we talk."

"Watch TV?"

"They'll be playing really dirty or boring stuff at this time."

"Do anything _other than_ hear my life story?"

"Look, when you walk out of this room you're going to be thinking about it no matter what. Why not get some of the bad stuff off your chest so you can focus on the good?"

"Talking about things always makes them real," said Scott, taking a sip of coffee. "I'd prefer this to stay in the hypothetical."

"That nearly had the potential to be poetic."

"Thank you."

"Ugh!" She rolled her eyes and slapped one palm on the table. "Let's just talk about it, okay? Neither of us has anything to do! We might as well kill time together."

Scott's patience snapped. "I'm not talking about it, okay?" Standing up, he took his coffee and prepared to leave the room.

"Please, professor Summers!" said Hailey, jumping out of her chair and grabbing his arm. "You don't have to tell me. Just stay here with me. Please?"

She was begging him, tears welling in her eyes. Scott immediately felt a stab of guilt from upsetting her. She was just a lonely girl who had lost her mother and come here for shelter against the cruel world.

Kind of like himself, but without the part about being a girl.

"Fine," he sat back down and she placed herself across from him at the table. For a couple of minutes all that could be heard in the kitchen was the high pitched sound of Hailey's hiccupping sobs. She looked back up at him when they'd subsided. Her eyes were now red, her cheeks tear stained.

"This is why I don't want to tell you about my life," said Scott, smiling nervously. "It's really disturbing."

"Anything that'd take my mind off my mind would be good," she said, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Disturbing or not."

Scott sighed. "Alright. How about I get something else to read to you instead and you blow your nose while I run and get it." He dug through his pockets and pulled out a little packet of tissues.

She took them and gave him a mildly suspicious look. "Promise you'll be back in less than five minutes?"

"I swear it," he said, slapping one hand to heart in an effort to make her smile. She obliged with a watery chuckle and he jogged out of the room.

He returned only a few minutes later with an old, green book in his hand. Sitting across from her, he opened it and turned to the first page.

"This is one of my favorite stories," he said, smiling at her.

"Alright," she said, preparing to listen carefully.

"Okay," he took a deep breath. "_It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man of good fortune must be in want of a wife…_"

--

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**There's a little intermission for you all. The second half will probably be easier to write since I have more of it "plotted out" (see end author's note for chapter 5). I hope you're all liking this so far. It's fun to write and I really hope you're having fun reading it.**

**Please show your support by reviewing! I take anonymous ones as well as normal ones!**

**-OFsI**


	9. Teasing

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "That Thing You Do!" by the 'Wonders' from the soundtrack of the film, _That Thing You Do!_ I love this song. :D

Okay, nobody is allowed to say that it's unrealistic how fast Scott gets disorientated because I did an experiment with myself on the stairs in my own home and I could figure out where I was when I had only gone down five steps. Yes, I know it was weird to run an experiment like that on myself. It was in the interest of… fan fiction? XD

Hope you all like it!

--

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**Chapter 7: Teasing**

Mildred was the one who led Scott upstairs. One hand on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his waist, she steered him through the hallway. However the moment they stepped out of the test room, Scott had lost where he was. As they climbed what he thought was the first flight of stairs, he gripped the hem of her shirt.

"Mildred?" he asked tentatively, praying she wouldn't take her arms off him.

"It's me," she said, helping him find the steps with his feet.

"Where are we going?"

"You're being moved upstairs so you can't hurt the other children."

He could see why he was a danger. The huge hole in the wall of his room was enough evidence of that. "Will I see my friends again?" he asked, carefully letting one of his hands rest on the metal railing. He felt a lot safer being with Mildred than he'd felt with Dr. Jennifer. Mildred wouldn't hurt him.

Mildred felt her stomach twist with guilt as she looked at the frightened boy, unable to see due to a long strip of cloth tied over his eyes.

"Maybe," she lied. "But you'll make friends up here too. You're going to be in a room with another one of the children who stays there."

"Why?" he asked without thinking.

"To keep an eye on you. To..." she paused to think of a good way to say it. "To be a kind of seeing-eye dog for you."

"Oh..." He'd lost count of which flight of stairs they were on now. It had to be at least four, and yet Mildred kept going. Higher and higher, until finally she led him off the stairs and down the hallway.

"Here is your room," she said, briefly letting go off him to pull some keys out of her pocket and unlock the door. She led him into the room. Scott could feel plush carpet under his feet and he tried to work out which direction he was pointing. As far as he knew, he could've been upside down. "I'll see you in the morning."

He heard the door close and spun around to try and stop her going, but only succeeded in disorientating himself more.

"Hello?" he said softly, trying to figure out where he was in the room. Where was the person he was sharing a room with? Whoever it was seemed awfully quiet. He wondered side ways until his hands met concrete wall. It was like playing Blind man's Bluff—a game he'd always hated. He felt his way along the wall and jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Who's that?" he called out loudly, keeping one hand against the wall as he craned his head, as though he was peering around for the person who'd tapped him. There was a snicker about two feet to his right. Hesitating only for a second, he let go of the wall and reached out.

His hands met only air and, due to his sloppy lunge, he fell down on the carpeting. His chin smashed against the ground and his teeth clenched together painfully.

He was so confused-- he couldn't figure out if he was still two feet or ten miles from the wall. Rooms no longer held their boundaries but stretched on for ever and ever. He gripped the floor, wondering where the horizon was.

Slowly standing up, he began fumbling for the wall once more.

"Over here!"

Somebody was right behind him! He turned around and jumped. Again, he slammed against the floor.

"Please!" he shouted, voice cracking as his nose began to bleed a little. "Please stop! Leave me alone..."

"It's okay, kid... I'm right here."

Somebody roughly took him by the wrist and pressed his hands to his face. Scott let his fingers glide over the large, beaky nose, soft lips and sunken eyes. He could feel whoever-it-was's hair too-- silky and smooth under his fingertips. The person pulled his hand off again, but didn't let go of his wrist.

"My name is Jack," he said quickly, but clearly. "I'm sorry about that thing before. I was just playing when I probably shouldn't have. I didn't realize you'd get so upset."

Scott tried to move his hands a little in Jack's flesh and bone handcuff. "My name is Scott," he said, after a slight pause.

"No nickname?" asked Jack, a teasing tone in his voice.

"No..." said Scott, raising one eyebrow behind his blindfold. "Why? Do I need one?"

"No, but I would've thought you'd prefer some sort of nickname instead of just 'Scott'."

"Hey," said Scott, a little miffed. "What's wrong with my name?"

"Oh nothing…" he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"What do you—"

"So what are your powers then? Jack asked, smoothly cutting off Scott before he'd even reached mid-sentence.

"What powers?" he asked, deciding to leave the name thing for now.

"Your… Well… Okay, most of the kids were sent up here because they had some sort of… power. Something they could just do that no person should be able to do normally. One of my friends—Keira—was sent up here when I was about ten because she could make plants grow according to her will. Dr. Milbury found out about it and yanked her into the test room and I saw Mildred leading her up here latter that day. I dunno where she is now…"

"How did she get her powers?" asked Scott. He quite liked the idea of her ability—it sounded a lot more useful than what he could do.

"Dunno," said Jack with another shrug. "But she had them, that's for sure. What can you do?"

"I... I woke up, a while ago-- I dunno if it was a couple of days or a week..." Scott quickly realized he was rambling and caught himself. "Anyway, when I opened my eyes this big... energy... thing burst out and just sort of blew a hole through the wall."

"Did everyone come in when they heard the explosion? I remember hearing something loud a couple days back."

"Yeah..." said Scott, his whole body shaking, "and when I turned around to see them I just sort of... fell off."

"Fell off?" Scott could almost see Jack's look of bewilderment.

"I just kind of toppled off the edge of the floor," said Scott and suddenly realized something. "I don't know how I didn't die, actually."

Jack shrugged, then, remembering Scott couldn't see him, said, "Beats me."

He looked at Scott for a few minutes. He was clearly nervous and scared. Sighing, he stood up, pulling Scott up with him.

"I'll give you a quick tour of the room and then we'll go to bed, okay? IT's nearly eleven at night."

Scott nodded and Jack led him around the room. As they neared the bed, he tripped over a small box and nearly fell down again.

"Sorry about that," said Jack, helping Scott regain his balance. "They brought up your things a while before you arrived."

Slowly and carefully, Scott knelt down and opened the box. He'd know it when he felt it.

"What are you looking for?" asked Jack, bending down beside him and placing one hand on his back.

Scott just shook his head and dug through the various items. Finally, he found what he'd been looking for.

He pulled it out and opened it, running his hand over the yellowed pages-- Jack snatched it from his hands.

"_Pride and Prejudice_?" he said, turning the book over in his hand. "Have you read this before?"

"Give it back," said Scott, trying to take it back from him.

"No, seriously! Have you—"

"I said 'give it back'!" said Scott, grabbing it from Jack and holding it tightly in his hands.

"I'm sorry," said Jack, patting the brunette on the back.

"I never got to read it," said Scott, biting his lip and running his hands over the soft cloth cover. "And now I never will."

"Sure you will!" said Jack, giving Scott a light punch in the shoulder.

"How?" asked Scott, cocking one eyebrow.

"Well..." Jack grinned. "I could read it to you!"

Scott looked angry now.

"I don't need you to read to me!" he shouted, unsure of why he felt unwilling to accept his offer. Apart from learning brail—which was pretty much out of the question when he was trapped in a room he couldn't see—having a person read the book aloud was the only way he'd ever read the whole story.

"Look," Jack sighed and patted him on the back. "Just because I'd be reading it aloud to you doesn't mean I don't think you're not intelligent enough to read and understand the story on your own. You just have a... disability because of your power and having to accept help because of it."

Scott mulled over Jack's words in his mind. Finally, he took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the book.

"I'd... Please, read this to me."

"It'd be my pleasure," said Jack, beaming. "Let me help you into your pajamas and then we'll start."

Only a few minutes later, Jack helped Scott into bed and sat down beside him. He opened the old, green volume, his eyes landing instantly on the neatly written words, Marie Summers.

He flipped to the first page and tapped Scott on the shoulder.

"You ready?" he asked, resting his hand on the younger boy's shoulder.

Scott nodded, letting himself sink a little further into his pillow.

"Okay—_It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man of good fortune must be in want of a wife..._"

--

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**Okay, so not much happened in this chapter. I apologize again for not updating before. I hope you all enjoy!**

**-OFsI**


	10. I Hate Tests

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "Ring Ring" by Mika from his album, _Life in Cartoon Motion_.

ATTENTION! READ THIS NOTE!

In this chapter, I really near the high end of the T rating (for sexuality). It's mostly implied but if you feel uncomfortable with stuff like that, leave now.

--

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**Chapter 8: "I Hate Tests"**

"Hey, wake up."

Scott stirred slightly, scrunching up his face in an effort to hold on to the last remnants of his dream. Maybe whoever was trying to wake him up would stop.

"Com'mon, Scott. Get up."

Realizing he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, he tried to open his eyes.

Something was blocking them.

He brought his hands up to his eyes and something soft—something that wasn't skin. It was cotton. Why was there a strip of cotton cloth over his eyes?

All at once the events of the past couple of days came rushing back. He didn't know how he'd forgotten it all, but it came back so sharply that he jerked. He pulled on the cloth, trying to tear it away. He hadn't seen for over… He didn't even know how many days it was now!

"Woah, woah, woah… Calm down."

It was Jack. He remembered Jack. He flung out his hands, groping for the other boys face. Two hands grabbed his bony wrists and pressed them against his face. He felt the beaky nose and sharp features. His breathing began to slow down again.

"Jack…" he said, his entire body shaking with fear. "Jack…"

"Hey, I'm right here," said Jack, gripping Scott's hands and helping him out of the bed. "How about I take you around the room a couple times, okay."

Not waiting for a response, Jack led him around the perimeter of the room. After they had done it enough times that Scott had completely calmed down, Jack had him sit down at beside the bed.

"Okay," he said, picking up the battered copy of _Pride and Prejudice_. "We were at the point just after they met Darcy and Bingly, right?"

"Yeah," said Scott, nodding.

Jack read the chapter and they were about the start the next when Scott held up his hand for him to stop.

"Can you… can you teach me any math?"

Jack grinned. "What do you want to know?"

"We were doing stuff with F.O.I.L. when I was sent up here. It's just… Math is all I'm really good at…"

"Hey," said Jack, patting him lightly on the back. "I'm sure you're good at heaps of stuff. Look, it'll take me a while to get stuff ready to teach you so how about I read to you some more, okay?"

Jack got up and Scott could hear him rummaging in something before he sat back down again. "Right, you ready?"

"Uh-huh."

He began to read again and Scott leaned lazily against the wall. After a while of being read to, Scott began to feel his way around him for something to do with his hands while Jack read. His hand connected with a book.

He knew that book. It was the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ that had belonged to his mum. It was closed and sitting on the floor beside Jack, who was still spouting off the story, word for word.

"Why aren't you reading?" asked Scott, picking up the book.

Jack froze a moment then, in a sheepish tone, he muttered, "That's… what I can do…"

"What do you mean 'That's what I can do'?" demanded Scott, he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He didn't know why he felt sort of betrayed, but the feeling still tugged inside of him.

"I can just… remember stuff," said Jack, running a finger along the spine of the book. "Like… _everything._ Every book I ever read or song I listened to or conversation I've had. I can just… remember it all. I confided it to one of my friends when he wanted to know how I'd gotten such a good mark on the history exam and he told Milbury and… yeah…" his voice trailed off.

"I think that's a cool power," said Scott, turning his face up towards him as though he was looking at him. "I wish I could do something like that."

Jack turned towards him, a little shocked. "You don't think I'm a… a cheat or something like that? I mean, it just happens, I can't do anything about it—"

"I really think it's cool, Jack," Scott said, grinning. "Now keep so-called "reading"."

--

Soon after, Jack had all the things prepared for teaching Scott more about the F.O.I.L. method when there was a sharp knock at the door.

"It's test time," said Mildred through the slat. Scott could hear the door the door being unlocked.

"Come on," said Jack, helping him up.

"Test time?" asked Scott, slowly following the other boy.

"They're taking us to the Test Room," explained Jack, allowing Scott to grip on to his shirt sleeve. They bumbled against the other kids. Most of the body parts that brushed Scott were normal but he could've sworn that once he touched by something furry.

"What do they do in the test room?" he asked, knowing that his curiosity was about to be satisfied.

"Dr. Milbury considers us at "_specimens_"," Jacked stated, contempt flashing in his voice, "and likes to perform different physical and mental tests on us to see how we (1) react and (2) complete them." Scott could feel the tension in his new friend's arm. "Lord, I hate him…"

They continued down the flights of stairs surrounded by other people. They were packed right up against each other as they descended. Scott tried to work out how many flights of stairs they'd gone down but he lost track again.

"Can you tell me when we reach the third floor?" he asked, standing on toe to whisper in Jack's ear.

"If you want to talk to one of your friends we're not allowed to approach the other kids at the orphanage. It's forbidden."

"Why?"

"Because Milbury's a bastard."

That was a new voice. Scott jumped and 'looked' around for the speaker.

"Calm down, Scott," said Jack, putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's just Victor. He's a good friend of mine." Taking Scott's hand, Jack placed it in the rough grasp of another boy.

"It's nice to meet you Scott," said Victor, an interesting loose accent that Scott couldn't really place. "Can't you see? If that's what they crammed you up here for than Milbury's a lot more paranoid than he used to be."

"Scott shoots lasers from his eyes," explained Jack, trying to diffuse any awkward topic before it became too uncomfortable, "but he can't turn them off so they tied this thing over his eyes."

"That bites," said Victor bluntly.

"What can you do?" asked Scott, trying to seem a bit more masculine in front of his Victor-guy who he felt was probably half a head taller than him.

"I can take knowledge from other people by just looking at them which is why I'm usually paired up with Jack during the tests. Also I'm good at soccer, football and lacrosse, but that has nothing to do with why I was sent up here." He grinned and Scott could almost hear it in his voice.

"We're almost there," said Jack, a tightness in his voice that Scott hadn't heard before.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still holding tightly on to his arm.

"I-I'm fine," said Jack, shaking slightly. "I… I just hate these tests, that's all…"

Victor slapped his friend on the back, making both him and Scott lurch forward.

"I'm with you there, Jack."

Finally, they reached the Test Room.

--

_Present_

Scott snapped the book shut as Kitty walked into the kitchen.

"I guess we'll continue reading at… some point then," he said, standing up. "I'll see you later Hailey, Kitty."

He quickly left the kitchen leaving the two girls to talk among themselves. Jogging down the hallway, he went into the danger room where he was supposed to teach a class in about an hour. There was no harm in being early though.

After changing into his X-Man suit and replacing his glasses with the large visor, he caught sight of Logan at the other side of the room, pummeling a large punching bag. He went over to join him.

"Hello Logan," said Scott, watching the other man. Logan stopped and looked at him, a small grin on his sweaty face.

"Hiya Summers." He almost laughed the words, a little out of breath. "What'cha doing here?"

"I teach a class here with Storm in about an hour," he said, gazing vaguely at the punching bag. "We're doing tests with some of the kids today."

"So… no math class for you?" asked Logan, walking over to the duffel bag that rested in a nearby corner and pulling out a bottle of water.

"Nope," said Scott, cracking his neck before lashing out at the punching bag with a carefully aimed hit. "These are gonna take a while. They always do."

"I see," said Logan, taking a swig of water. "I think all you teachers have to be kind of sadists or something to actually enjoy giving these kids these tests."

"Oh no, Logan. You're very wrong about that," said Scott and knocked the sand-filled sac so hard that it swung upward before fall down again with a heavy _clang_. It swung lazily in front of him as he turned towards Logan. "I hate giving out tests."

--

_Back in the past—Omaha, Nebraska_

Scott nervously followed Jack into the test room. It was so suddenly, shockingly cold that for a moment he couldn't move.

A voice boomed from seemingly nowhere.

"_When your names are called out please step forward, join your partner and follow the doctor into one of the rooms. Tristan McIntyre and Stacy Pennings._"

This went on for several minutes, names begin called out almost randomly. Jack held Scott's wrist tightly, letting him know he was there.

"_John Kingston and Victor Davids._"

"I have to go. I'm sorry," said Jack and walked away, leaving Scott trapped in a mass of people. More names were called out until it was only Scott with two other people. Three people. Was he going to be paired up with anyone?

"_Megan Smith and Patricia Clark_."

Obviously not.

An icy hand grabbed his wrist and tugged him roughly into one of the rooms. He was pushed down in a chair which felt a lot like the one at the dentist he once went to in Alaska. Despite the cool room, Scott still felt fairly warm.

"Scott Summers…"

Scott recognized that voice. It was the young man who had worked on him with Dr. Milbury the first time he was in the test room. It smooth and snake like, almost making him want to shiver.

"Don't worry. I'm sorry you weren't paired up with anyone but your powers… Well, they aren't the same as anyone else's at this orphanage."

"Who are you?" asked Scott, fear coursing through his veins.

"My name is Dr. Redding. Now just relax." His fingers dug into his back, rubbing small circles into his skin. "Scott, I've been told to ask you a couple questions before we go on to the physical end of things."

Scott nodded, hoping this meant the end of Dr. Redding's creepy massage.

"Listen carefully now—DEVIL is to LIVED at SAW is to…?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind," said Dr. Redding, continuing to rub Scott's back. "You ready for the next question?"

"Yeah."

"What comes next in this sequence of numbers: _2, -4, 8, -16, 32, -64_…?"

"128?"

"Exactly!" Dr. Redding gave him a pat on the shoulder but didn't cease his massage. "Alright…"

The questions continued for about hour. It was like they had stolen an intelligence test and given it to him in vocal form. He was bored stiff when Dr. Redding clapped his hands together, finishing his massage.

"Okay! That's the end of your psychological tests for today. Now for the physical."

Scott tried to stand up, but Dr. Redding pushed him back in the chair.

"Don't move just yet Scott," he said, his hand lingering on the teenager's shoulders. Shivers traveled up Scott's spine—some thing wasn't right here.

The doctor's hands felt down to the boy's chest and stomach—so light, so delicate. He could feel him shaking beneath his fingers, fear twisting his face.

His hands fell down even lower.

--

Much later that evening, Mildred led Scott up the stairs. He was completely silent. When they finally reached the top floor, she walked him into his room.

"Jack is already in here. I hope the tests weren't too hard on you."

Scott stepped into the room, unbalanced and silent. The door shut softly behind him.

Jack jumped up from where he'd been sitting on the floor. Something was definitely wrong with Scott. Taking his hands, Jack led the younger to the bed and sat him down. The brunette's head hung down, his back slumping forward. He looked limp.

"Scott?" asked Jack, shaking him lightly. "Scott? You alright?"

And suddenly Scott burst into tears.

--

--

**Whoo! I've not written a chapter that long in a while. Wow. I hope you all liked (?) it.**

**-OFsI**


	11. Legally Dead

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: Random songs on shuffle

--

--

**Chapter 9: Legally Dead**

"Remember Scott: _Soh-Cah-Toa_."

Scott bit his lip, running his fingers over the right-angle triangle drawn with glue.

"It's… sin 13 degrees equals H over 4, right?"

Jack beamed. "Perfect. Okay. Sine 13 is roughly 0.22495, so what's H?"

"4 times… whatever sine 13 is?"

Jack laughed. "Let's continue this tomorrow, okay?" Scott nodded. Trigonometry was difficult when you couldn't see the shapes.

It had been almost a year and a half since Scott was put up on the top floor. Jack knew it was driving the younger boy insane being trapped in this twisted routine. Whenever the tests were performed by Dr. Redding, it took ages for Jack to get him to fall asleep. He twitched for days afterward at the slightest touch. He was usually alright by Wednesday but on the following Monday the whole thing started again when they were brought back to that chilly room.

Scott stood up and stretched.

"Ugh…" he groaned, cracking his neck. "I hate being stuck in this stupid room."

"I know…" said Jack, nodding in agreement. "It sucks."

"Do you think that if I wrote a letter to Alex and gave it to Mildred that she'd send it?" asked Scott, flopping back on the bed. "You know, the way you and Victor do?"

Jack grinned. He and Victor frequently sent messages to each other through the house keeper, knowing she would never breathe a word about it to Dr. Milbury.

"I don't think so," he said, joining his friend on the bed. "Dr. Milbury would probably find out."

"Yeah…" said Scott, sighing. He missed his brother a lot.

Suddenly there was a loud shout in the hallway and both boys jumped. Jack ran over to the door, peeking through the slat where they got there soup. A girl with long dark hair and chocolate brown skin was being brought up, not by Mildred, but by three of the doctors. She was putting up a spectacular resistance to being put on the top floor.

"What's going on?" asked Scott, sitting beside Jack.

"They're bringing someone up," said Jack, looking through the slat. "And she's not liking it."

Scott grinned. "Is she fighting them?"

"Oh yeah," said Jack, laughing a little. "Yeah, she's fighting hard."

"Get off me!" the girl screamed, kicking one of the doctors hard in the shin. "You can't do this!"

Jack watched as the doctors opened one of the doors and shoved the girl inside.

"Let me out of here!" she shouted, pounding against the door.

"Did they put her in?" asked Scott.

"Yes, unfortunately," said Jack with a sigh.

"Too bad."

--

Monday came far too quickly for Scott's liking and soon they were being ushered out of their rooms and towards the steps.

He heard Jack speaking to Victor when there was a familiar voice behind him.

"What's with the blindfold, kid?"

It was the girl, the one that had kept him up half the night with her shouts of protest. She seemed a lot calmer now. He turned as she spoke behind him.

"Excuse me?" he asked, knowing he probably sounded completely moronic.

"The blindfold," she said. "You know—that strip of cloth over your eyes…?"

He felt instantly stupid.

"Uh… yeah…" He wished Jack would cut in, but he was too busy talking to Victor. "I shoot these sort of… lasers out of my eyes and I can't turn them off so… yeah…" He really felt dumb.

"Cool," she said with nod. "I got dragged up there because I can control water."

"Seriously?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Awesome," he said, a touch of laughter in his voice.

They reached the test room. The pairs and groups were pushed out of the room and Scott led off to a room by himself. His heart pounding, he waited to hear Dr. Redding's voice.

"Hello, Scott."

It wasn't Dr. Redding. It wasn't any other doctor he'd been tested by before.

"Where is Dr. Redding?" he asked, not that he particularly wanted to see him.

"Dr. Redding is dealing with some of the other children," said the doctor, Scott thought it was a woman, but he wasn't sure.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Dr. Angela Royale." So it was a woman. "I was hired just a few days ago."

"What kind of tests will we be doing?" he asked, praying that she wouldn't give him another intelligence test.

"I'll be testing your hearing, reflexes and sense of touch and smell," she said. "Now, are you ready?"

He nodded.

"Okay, tell me when you can hear something."

It was silent for a long time until finally he heard a faint, low hum.

"I can hear a tone," he said.

"Alright. Now I'm going to play a sound and I want you to react to it as you would normally."

"Okay," he said. This was far better than those stupid intelligence tests or Dr. Redding's "physical exams".

The first noise was a high pitched scream. He jumped slightly and looked around, genuinely shocked.

"Good job," said Dr. Royale. "Now, find where I am. I will continue speaking as you search…"

He stood up, listening carefully. He'd done this many times when he was looking around the room for Jack. Slowly, he moved towards the right. The sound of her voice was getting louder. He stepped closer to the sound, putting out his hands. Finally, they connected with stiff cloth.

"Good work!" she said and he could hear the smile in her voice.

After several minutes of tests, she allowed him to sit down again.

"You've been doing very well," she said. "Would you like a glass of water?"

He nodded. "Yes, thanks." She placed a plastic cup in his hands and he took a gulp. "Dr. Royale?"

"Yes?" she asked. He thought for a moment. She seemed far more trustworthy than the other doctors. He took the chance.

"If I wrote a letter to my brother, would you send it for me?"

She was silent for several seconds.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Scott," she said slowly, as though not wanting to say the words coming out of her mouth.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because… according to state records, you died when you blasted through that wall."

"What?" He was legally dead? How did that even work? "Why have I died?"

"So that the government won't come asking why you aren't at school. Your brother has probably been informed of this. It wouldn't work to write him."

He sat in the chair, completely stiff. Dead…

"Let's continue the tests," said Dr. Royale, her voice a little tense. "Come on."

--

When Scott was led back to his and Jack's room, he was silent, as usual. But it was different than it was normally. Normally, he came back and his shoulders were hunched, his hands were loose and hanging by his sides. This time he was standing up straight, his knuckles white, his jaw set.

Mildred led him into the room and he sat on the bed. For once he'd gotten back before Jack so he waited, totally still, until the door reopened and his friend entered.

"Hey Scott. You feeling alright?"

He stood up and walked over to Jack. Putting his hand on the other shoulder, he took a deep breath.

"Jack, I'm leaving this place."

--

--

**So much new writing! Oh well. I blame my being too sick to do anything. I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if it was poorly written. I love math and I did some trig just this year for some reason.**

**Please review! That little button is right there! **

**-OFsI**


	12. Running

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "Pocketful of Sunshine" by Natasha Bedingfield from her album, _Pocketful of Sunshine_.

--

--

**Chapter 10: Running**

Jack stared at Scott, horrified.

"What?"

"I'm going," said Scott simply. "Next test day, I'm running."

"You're insane, Scott! They'll catch you before you reach the door. And besides, how will you find your way out?"

"I don't know," said Scott, shaking his head. "And I honestly don't care. I can't stay here."

"You've been here two years, Scott," said Jack, grabbing his shoulders. "Why do you have to leave now? You've been fine for this long—"

"No," Scott interrupted, working his way out of the other boy's tight grip. "I've not been fine. I've been harassed, poked, prodded and studied for two years. I've not been fine. If I was anywhere else, I would've been cured and, if not cured, at least loved. I wouldn't have been treated as some sort of combined sex toy and specimen—"

"So I'm not part of those two years?" asked Jack, letting his arms fall to his sides.

Guilt suddenly stabbed Scott. That's not what he'd meant.

"Jack, I didn't mean—"

"Scott, don't you think I'm going crazy up here too? I've been up here for six years. I've not been outside; I've not treated as a human being for six years. Up until when you came up here, I hadn't had a spoken conversation that wasn't on the stairs down to the test room!" He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "If you really have to leave, then go, but don't act as though I was never there, please."

Scott pulled him into a hug.

"I'd never be able to forget you, Jack…" he said, biting his lip. "Never…"

--

A week later, they were all trudging down the steps. Jack and Victor were chatting as usual while Scott ran over the escape route that had been drilled into him by Jack. Victor glanced at him and his eyes widened.

Leaning closer to Jack, he whispered as softly as he could and still be heard by his friend, "He's running away?"

Jack glanced from Scott to Victor and nodded. Victor grinned.

"You going?"

"No," said Jack with a shake of his head.

"Are you kidding?" asked Victor, incredulous.

"What are you two talking about?" asked a girl with long black hair and dark brown skin.

"You're that girl that was trying to run away from the doctors, right?" asked Jack. She nodded.

"Name's Christi," she said, annoyed. "Now, what are you talking about?"

"Running away," whispered Victor. "_My_ friend here doesn't want to join _his_ friend over there in the blindfold in his escape attempt."

"You going?" she asked Victor, one eyebrow raised.

"I dunno. I'd rather have my own with Jack, but you can go."

She thought for a moment, and then nodded.

"Will you guys back us up?" she asked softly.

They both nodded, ready for the moment.

As they reached the ground floor, Jack leaned over to whisper in Scott's ear.

"Are you ready?"  
Scott nodded, shaking slightly.

"Okay, Christi, the girl that was trying to run away before, is going with you too. She'll help you out."

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I… I'll miss you… a lot."

Jack bit his lip.

"I'll miss you too."

They turned down the hallway. Jack looked over at Christi and nodded.

"Go Scott," he whispered in the other's ear.

The two teens took off down the hallway. The doctors leading them down froze for a second in shock before tearing after them. It seemed as though the hallway had extended and their feet were taking too long to help them reach the door.

Suddenly, one of the walls burst into flame.

The other kids were helping them, trying to slow down the doctors and other guards.

Jack and Victor ran after their friends.

The guards started to close in front of the large group.

"Take off your blindfold, Scott!" shouted Jack, jumping on to one of the doctors and knocking them to the ground.

Christi looked over at Scott. His face was twisted, conflicted and confused. She grinned. The kid had a set of morals and a damn scary power—good match.

"Do it, kid!" she said. Scott bit his lip and brought his hands up to the back of his head, feverishly working at the knot.

Taking a deep breath, he tore it off and opened his eyes.

A blast of red energy burst between the guards on either side and punched straight through the wall. The force of it blasted through the wall, but he didn't shut his eyes again until they were outside.

They kept running. The blindfold, though still in Scott's hand, hadn't been put back on yet so he felt the fresh air on his face for the first time in years. They tore together across Omaha, whooping and dancing. Christi could see Dr. Milbury arguing with the guards and other doctors, who were reluctant to pursue them by car, since it would cause too much attention with the police.

Eventually, they both had to stop. They ran down a small alley and leaned against the walls, panting heavily but still laughing.

"We did it," said Scott, putting his head back and laughing loudly.

Christi grinned and shut her eyes for a few moments.

"Here let me redo that blindfold."

To her surprise, Scott looked a little reluctant to have her do this.

"Look, kid," I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. I'm trying to stop you from hurting other people."

He nodded slowly. "Fine." Her long, bony fingers twisted the knot back into place in seconds. He felt in gingerly, as though he wasn't sure it was there again.

"Where are you going now?" she asked, looking down the alley. "We've both gotta get out of Omaha."

He thought for a second.

"California," he said finally.

"Okay, first we'll both take a train to Kansas, just to get out of the city; you've got money, right?"

"Heaps. I've not got to spend any since I got here and I hid it in a box they brought up to my room."

"Good, com'mon."

--

--

**Whoo! Scott is **_**out**_** of the orphanage—or is he? Just kidding. I know it's ludicrous that Milbury's doctors didn't try to pursue them, but it would cause a lot of attention!**

**Anyway, review please!**

**-OFsI**


	13. Intermission II: Because

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "The Scientist" by Coldplay from the album _A Rush of Blood to the Head_.

--

--

**Intermission II: Because**

Logan raised one eyebrow.

"If you hate tests then why'd you agree to give them?"

"Because," said Scott and began hitting the punching bag repeatedly, creating a steady rhythm. "The professor asked me to tests the students on what they'd learned in controlling their powers so I will."

"But _why_?" asked Logan, taking another swing of water. "I mean, you aren't his slave."

"He's provided me with shelter for the past… several years—"

"You teach the students at his school," Logan pointed out. "Or does he actually pay you?"

"He _does_ pay me, Logan," said Scott, pausing for a second in his punching to give the other man a withering look.

"So why do you have to do everything he says just because he lets you stay here to teach kids and your _un_paid work as an X-Men," Logan held up a hand to stop Scott from speaking. "Don't try to say you're paid for that stuff! I know you aren't because I'm not either."

Scott sighed and put his hands on the punching bag to stop it swinging.

"Look, I… I owe the professor a lot," he said, gazing at his hands but not really focusing. Biting his tongue, he tried not to say any more. It was all coming back that day. All because of that damn dream he had.

"Why do you owe the professor anything?" he asked, shaking his head slightly as though he didn't understand and, in truth, he didn't.

Scott just looked at him for a few moments, his eyes—not that Logan could see them behind his shades—and his expression blank.

"I don't really want to talk about it," he said eventually and went back to hitting the punching bag.

"Why don't you want to talk about it?" Logan asked teasingly.

Scott smirked and shook his head, continuing to beat up the punching bag. Sweat trickled down from his forehead and he tossed his head to get his hair off his forehead.

"Well," said Logan after a few moments of silence. "You don't have to be his slave." And with that, he walked out of the Danger room.

Scott paused in his punching to watch him leave. Logan would never really understand it. He hadn't ever needed a person like Scott had, not one like the professor anyway. Because of his closeness with the man, Scott was happy to do anything for him, simply because he wanted to help him.

He turned back to the punching bag, resting his hands on its leathery surface.

He really did owe the professor a lot.

--

--

**Okay, so this thing was really short, but it was needed! I swear it!**

**Anyways, please review! Who can guess what happens to Scott at the train station in Kansas?**

**-OFsI**


	14. Let Me Help

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Watching: _10,000 BC_. This film was (unintentionally) hilarious!

Sadly, we're getting close to the end. (None of my stories seem to be able to go up to twenty chapters. My record number is fifteen.) I hope you all enjoy this while it lasts because it's going fast.

--

--

**Chapter 11: Let Me Help**

"We're here," said Christi, putting her hand on Scott's as the train pulled into the station. "Come on."

She helped him off the train and onto the station. They attracted a good deal of attention—a tall, dark-skinned girl helping a skinny, awkward teenage boy in a blindfold jump from the train to the platform. An elderly woman behind them grumbled a little until Christi shot her glare.

They walked together through the station when she helped him over to the desk. At least, that what he thought she was going to do, but instead she stopped in the center of the station and grabbed him by the hand, gripping the extremity as tight as she could.

"You're on your own from here, Scott," she said with a sigh and shook his hand. "I hope we meet again someday."

"Thanks," he said, gripping her hand just as tightly. "I hope so too."

"I'll see you," she said and broke the connection, walking away into the crowds of people around him.

He wandered across the station until he reached a desk by the wall.

"Excuse me," he said, holding the edge of the desk as tightly as possible. "How can I get to California?"

The woman looked at him a few moments and wondered he was joking.

"Well, where do you want to go in California?" she asked, deciding to go along with the joke.

"I… I…" He struggled to remember his brother's address, but all he could remember was that it was in Orange County.

"Orange County," he said finally, figuring he could…. Well, he'd do something once he got there.

"Well, there isn't a train that goes there directly, but there is a direct train to Denver, Colorado."

"That'd be great," said Scott, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. "How much?"

She told him the price and he fumbled through the cash pouch of his wallet. He couldn't tell which bills were which. He pulled out three crisp notes and held them up.

"Is this right, ma'am?" he asked, feeling horribly foolish.

"No, sir. If you'd like, you could give me your wallet and I could take out the correct amount."

"No!" he said, a little louder than he'd meant to. Holding up the same three bills, he asked in a softer voice, "Which ones are which?"

"This one's a twenty, that's a ten and that's a one."

"Right," he said, leaving the twenty on the counter and pulling out another couple of bills. "Is this right?"

"No, sir. If you'd let me see—"

"Please," he interrupted, stuffing the money back in his wallet. "I… I can do this, alright?"

He used to be able to do it. The woman at the desk began to grow exasperated.

"I could help if you'd like," said a different voice.

Scott spun around at the sound. It was an older voice, deeper—probably some impatient old man.

"No thank you, sir," he said, trying to compose himself. "I'm just fine." He reached back into the cash pocket.

"If you'd let me help you—"

"Sir, I don't need help!" he shouted. His voice echoed around the large train station, mixing with the sounds of others' around him. He turned back towards the counter. "How about this, ma'am?"

She didn't respond. Silence filled the cavernous room. It was somehow more deafening than the din that preceded it. It closed in around Scott as he looked around. He reached towards the woman behind the counter and touched her hand the rested on the desk. She didn't move. She didn't even appear to be breathing.

"Hello?" he called out, turning away from the counter and stepping forward.

"I'm right here, Scott."

It was that man again. Scott spun on his heel in the direction of the voice.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, his heart pounding wildly against his rib cage. "What happened to her?"

"She'll be fine," said the man, brushing off the accusing tone in Scott's voice. "My name is Professor Charles Xavier."

"Good for you—why do you know my name?"

The man spoke again, but it didn't echo around the train station. His voice entered his mind, speaking softly and clearly.

_The same way I can do this_.

Scott spun around, trying to find the source of the sound. How had the man gotten into his head? It wasn't possible. It didn't make sense. It couldn't have happened—but it had.

"How did you do that?" he demanded, shaking.

"I'm a mutant, same as you."

"A what?"

"A mutant," said Professor Xavier. "We are the next step in evolution—still humans but with powers, special abilities."

"Special abilities?"

"Like your ability to shot blots of pure energy out of your eyes," said the professor, a smile in his voice. "Or my ability to read minds and telepath to people. In fact, I know a girl who can control the weather."

Scott bit his lip and fiddled with the bills in his hand. So he was a mutant. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"I'm here to help you, Scott," said the professor, taking one of his hands and making Scott jump. "I'm starting an institute for mutants, to give them a safe place to learn and practice their abilities. Your potential is incredible."

"I'm not interested in your institute," said Scott, turning back towards the counter. "Now if you'll please wake her up or whatever—"

"Where are you going to go, Scott? California?"

Scott set his jaw and turned back towards the professor.

"Don't read my mind. I need to go to California, alright? Just wake her up—"

"What if I told you I could help you see again?"

Scott froze, halfway in the motion of turning again towards the counter. He spun slowly on his heel. His heart beat hard, his hands shaking.

"Why?"

"I think I know how I can make you see again. It might take a bit, but I'm sure I could work it out." The professor paused, taking a deep breath. "Just let me try to help you, Scott, please."

His heart beat heavily in his chest. Picking up the twenty dollars from the desk behind him grabbed the professor's hand.

"Take me with you."

--

--

**Hooray! The professor arrived! I think I wrote him pretty well, though at the beginning he sounds kind of creepy. Oh well, I guess that's sort of the point.**

**Please review! Tell me what you think will happen next!**

**-OFsI**


	15. Finally Home

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "7 Things" by Miley Cyrus from the single _7 Things_.

--

--

**Chapter 12: Finally Home**

Scott followed Professor Xavier wearily across the airport runway. The train ride to Kansas City had been uncomfortable and mostly filled with the professor telling Scott about his institute in hushed tones. He had informed the boy that they would be taking his personal jet to New York, where the school was.

The idea of a jet ride scared Scott a little bit—correction, it scared him a _lot_. He tried to relax, to take deep breaths as they approached the machine that could easily cause his death, but nothing helped. His grip on the shoulder of the Professor as they walked across the runway tightened.

"Here we are," said Professor Xavier as they arrived at the jet. "Watch your step."

Taking a deep breath, Scott followed him up the ramp.

"This jet is called the Blackbird," said the Professor, helping Scott into a chair and buckling him up. "It's being flown by my former student, Hank McCoy."

"It's nice to meet you," said a voice, deep and husky. The man, Hank, grabbed his hand and gave him a strong handshake. The back of his hand seemed to be covered in a lot of hair. Scott later learned this had to do with his "mutation", but when he met him he just assumed he was hairy.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. McCoy," said Scott, his voice soft. "I'm Scott Summers."

"Mr. McCoy?" said Hank, laughing slightly. "Professor X, how old is he?"

"Sixteen," said the professor, seemingly from a distance.

"Scott, I'm six years older than you! Call me Hank, alright?"

"Alright," said Scott, feeling stupid.

After clearing some things with the airport security, they took off, flying away from the Midwest to the East coast—a place Scott hadn't been to for years.

They landed a few hours later at the institute (Scott wasn't certain how they landed _at_ the institute, but somehow they'd managed it.) and the professor and Hank led him up to the school.

Once he entered, Scott knew he'd made the right choice to go with the professor. The building had a warm, woody scent about it that brought back memories of his old home in Alaska. There was a cozy feel to the entrance way and he couldn't help smiling as he stood in the center of the room beside the professor.

"Professor Xavier!"

It was the voice of a young girl. Scott jumped and looked up where the sound had come from.

"Not now, Jean," said the professor and a smiling tone. "I need to get our new student settled in."

He led Scott to an elevator and took him down to the basement. It was cooler down there and the feeling and scent of the air reminded Scott a little of the test room. Shaking, he continued down a hall with the professor.

"This will be your room for now," said Professor Xavier, leading him into a warm room and taking him to a soft bed. "Once you see again it will take a while for your eyes to adjust to light again and so it'd be best for you to be down here."

"When will I see again?" asked Scott, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion.

"Soon," said the professor simply. "We'll do a few tests tomorrow and then I'll get to work on a formula for some sort of spectacles or something."

Scott stiffened at the word 'test'. The professor must've quickly searched his mind for the reason because his reaction to this fit exactly.

"I will not attack you, Scott," he said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "What happened at that orphanage was wrong and I assure you, it won't happen to you ever again."

Tears seeped through the blindfold and Scott fell into the professor's embrace, sobbing.

There's nothing quite like a hug from someone who cares for you and will always protect you. It's as though you're being wrapped in an envelope, light but still closed enough for you to feel safe. It's tight, but it's never too tight and it's never too loose either. It's warm, but you'll never sweat from it. Something will burst inside your stomach and you'll feel an urge to hold the person even tighter and never let go.

That's what Scott felt as he hugged the professor and it made him pull the older man closer and hold tight. It was magical and he hadn't felt it in ages. Only someone like a parent can create this feeling, though some very close friends can manage it as well.

He knew the words that the professor had spoken were true.

That would never happen to him again.

--

The next day, the professor took him into another room in the basement.

"This room is where we keep all the cars and the jet. The ceiling can open though. I want you to take off that blindfold, look up and open your eyes. There's nothing up there that you will hurt, alright."

Scott bit his lip, put his head back and lighted his eyelids.

The blast of pure, red energy burst from behind his eyes. They flew up, towards the sky.

"Shut your eyes now, Scott," said the professor and Scott obeyed, cutting off the beams.

It took a long time for Professor Xavier to work out a formula to block his "optic blasts" as he called them. Finally, after several weeks of tests and waiting, he entered Scott's room with a pair of spectacles. They were like sunglasses but, as he told Scott, the lenses were made of red quartz instead of glass.

"Put them on, Scott," he said, placing them in his hand. Scott did as he was told, but kept his eyes tight shut. "You can open your eyes," said the professor, laughing slightly.

"But what if…" he trailed off. The professor gave his hand a light squeeze.

"It'll be fine, just open your eyes."

Slowly, his lids parted. For a second, he thought that the lenses were going to break, but the red energy from his "optic blasts" dispersed on the other side of the quartz.

_Magic_.

He looked around the room for the first time. His bed was pushed up against the opposite wall from the doorway. The backpack he had lugged with him all the way from the orphanage was propped up against the nightstand. On the other wall was a dresser, though it was empty since Scott hadn't bothered to put away the three shirts and one pair of pants he'd brought with him from Omaha.

He turned towards the professor and wasn't surprised to see he was a slightly elderly man. Completely bald and dressed in a neat navy blue suit, he smiled at Scott.

"Are you happy Scott?"

He was happy. And he would've said so if he could've gotten the words out.

--

A few days later, the professor led Scott up and out of the basement to the ground level of the institute.

"I think you ought to meet your fellow classmates," said the professor, smiling at him.

"How many are there?" asked Scott, feeling suddenly nervous. He had seen the way he looked now—a pale, skinny shell of a teenage boy with a pale of red glasses resting on his bony, turned-up nose. He didn't think he could take an entire classroom full of other kids even if they were all "like him".

"Two," said the professor simply, motioning for Scott to follow him up the steps.

"Two?" asked Scott disbelievingly.

"We've not been around for a very long time, Scott," said the professor, smiling. "And, for safety reasons, not too many people know about this school."

When they reached the second floor, Scott followed Professor Xavier down a warm, wood paneled hallway to a door at the very end.

"This is my office," said the professor, turning the knob and leading him into a large, brightly lit room. Several bookshelves lined the walls and a plush carpet sat on the floor.

Two teenage girls sat in two chairs in front of the desk at one side of the room. Though they were about the same age and appeared to be pretty close by the way they were chatting, they looked very different. One of the girls had skin the same color as chocolate milk and short curly hair that was snowy white. Her face was round and friendly, her smile wide. On the other hand, the second girl was pale, her face pointed and strongly boned. Her sharp face was framed with long, curly hair that was so crimson Scott was sure it had to be dyed. When she caught sight of him, he saw that her eyes were the brightest green he'd ever seen.

"Hello Jean, hello Storm," said the professor, his tone light as he addressed the two girls. "This is your new classmate, Scott Summers. He can shoot blasts of energy from his eyes."

The girl with the white hair and dark skin stood up and walked over, smiling.

"I'm Storm," she said, shaking his hand. "I can control the weather."

"Awesome," he said, unsure of what else to say.

"Jean," said Storm, gesturing for the other girl to join them. "Come on."

She stood up and walked over, seeming almost to float over the polished wood floors. She caught his eye and smiled shyly. Scott felt his heart beat fast against his rib cage, blood rushing to his cheeks. She was beautiful.

"My name's Jean Grey," she said, giving him a dazzling smile the made his pulse quicken.

"Scott Summers," he said, shaking her hand.

"Jean's telekinetic," said the professor, raising one eyebrow in Storm's direction as they watched the two, "and telepathic."

Jean blushed slightly, but Scott grinned even wider.

"That's cool," he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

As the professor led them over to his desk, pulling up an extra chair as he walked across the room, Scott felt, for the time in years, that he was home.

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**Hooray! Scott's finally happy! :D **

**I hope you've all enjoyed this. I think there's just an epilogue left so… I just want to say, you guys have all been great. **

**-OFsI**


	16. Epilogue: Remembrance

Gifted Youngster

**Gifted Youngster**

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "The Scientist (Live in New York)" by Natasha Bedingfield and "Colors of the Wind" by Judy Kuhn (Pocahontas) from the soundtrack of the film _Pocahontas_.

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**Epilogue: Remembrance**

Scott walked out of the Danger Room much later that evening, wiping sweat from his forehead. Even though they were all kids, some of them sure were _strong_. He decided to take a shower so that he'd smell good when Storm and Jean returned later that evening.

Unfortunately the water was cold when he got in from the amount of other people having bathed that day, but he didn't mind. The icy blast kept his mind well grounded in reality, which was exactly what he needed that day. He flinched as it hit his skin and shivered as it ran down his legs.

He trembled as he twisted the nozzle, stopping the frigid stream of water, and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing his towel, he wrapped it around his waist and tried to stop shivering. After drying off, he walked back to his room and put on a different set of clothes, tossing his others in the dirty laundry pile in the corner of his room.

Walking over to the closet, he wrenched it open with such violence that one of the sliding doors fell off the track and he had to work it back into place. He got down on his knees and began digging through the cardboard boxes at the bottom of the closet. He barely saw the other items as he focused only on finding the grubby backpack.

He pulled it out from the bottom of a badly beaten box at the far back of the closet and stood up. Flopping down on the bed in preparation to search through the bag in total comfort, he sat back against the pillows and unzipped the top.

Inside the bag was a pair of faded jeans that were far too short for him now, another pair of khaki trousers that weren't as worn out but still wouldn't fit him, three t-shirts, a wallet which was now empty except for an ancient library card and student IDs and a folded up photograph. He took out the photo and unfolded it, shaking out the dust which had collected in the ceases off the side of the bed.

It was a picture taken when he was just nine years old. It had been the photo his parents had sent around to his relatives that Christmas. He'd stolen the photo when taking his mother's copy of _Pride of Prejudice_, keeping it secret from Mr. Milbury and everyone else except Jack. Even Jean and the professor had never seen it. Scott looked a total twit in it, of course—his smile was too wide and his teeth severely crooked—but to his right stood Alex.

He had never bothered to go looking for Alex in the end. After seeing how most people thought of mutants and being shunned because of this, he didn't want to see his brother. Alex probably wouldn't want to see him either. He would be ashamed of his brother and tell him to leave him be. He was probably happier just thinking he was dead. But Scott still felt a pang of longing as he looked at his younger brother, his blond hair sticking up at odd angles and his eyes shining their awesomely bright blue.

His eyes fell then on his parents standing behind him. His father's arm was wrapped around his mother's shoulders while also wrapping around Alex, pulling him close. Meanwhile she smiled at the camera and kept a firm hand on Scott's shoulder. His father looked down at him and Scott, a soft smile on his lips.

Scott gazed at the photo. Jean looked quite a bit like his mother. Not necessarily in coloring, but certainly with that intelligent glint in her dark blue eyes. She had the same smile too, small and even.

His father on the other hand… His father looked just like and older version of Scott—the same pale blue eyes, puffy lips and bony jaw. There was something different in the way he smiled though. It was cockier than Scott's large, wide grin. But then again, his father was a pilot, a flyboy right up until the end. Still, his chocolate brown hair sat almost identically to his son's.

Scott smiled and placed the photo back in the bag before tossing the backpack into the closet once more and shutting the sliding doors much more carefully than he'd opened them. He left the tidy bedroom and jogged down the steps. He wanted to be in place when Jean came back. She always looked so cute when she'd just come back from a mission—her cheeks flushed and her expression a little world weary.

Oh, and Storm usually looked cute too.

As he stood on the steps, the front door opened with a loud creak. Looking from the stairwell down to the entrance way, he smiled as he saw Jean enter with Storm directly behind her. The Professor beat Scott downstairs as he came out of the elevator. Jean must've warned him of their arrival.

"Hello Jean," he said, obviously smiling by the sound of his voice. "Hello Storm."

"Hello professor," the two women said, though not exactly in sync with each other.

"Jean!" said Scott, jumping immaturely down the remaining steps.

"Scott," she said, hugging him. Her scarlet hair lightly tickled his cheek and he pulled her closer, wishing they would never part. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes shining…

…the same way his mother's eyes always shone.

Someday… Someday he'd go back to Omaha and search for Jack and Victor. Someday he'd have the courage to return and look for them. But that someday, he knew he would be with Jean. She would have to be there, or he'd never have the courage.

He held her close, knowing he would never let go. He had finally found a home and the perfect people to share it with.

The kids, whose lives were similar in many ways to his own; the professor, who had become like a father to him; Storm, his only sister; Jean, the love of his life and even Logan, who was a perfect balance of arch-nemesis and good friend—they were all so important to him. They had each in their own way helped him grow to overcome all the painful memories.

He could suddenly remember a point when he was about seventeen and had asked the professor to wipe his memories, to take them away so that they wouldn't haunt him anymore.

"_But then you wouldn't be Scott Summers,_" the professor had said, patting him on the back. "_Those memories make you who you are._"

And for that, Scott was so grateful.

**--**

"…_that every unpleasant circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure._" –from _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen

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**THE END**

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**So… that's the end… I feel odd. I wish it wasn't over. I'll miss writing in this. **

**Soon I'll be writing and posting a one-shot that's about Alex now. Hooray! Please tell me if you want me to send you a private message when it's posted.**

**The two people tied for most kudos on this story are my writing partner, **_**Old Fiat n. France**_**, who helped me work out the plot and figure out this difficult epilogue, and **_**Be-Nice-To-Nerds**_**, who reviewed **_**every single chapter**_** from the very start. Thank you both so much!**

**Here's to my other reviewers, who shone little spots of light into my otherwise dark, writer's block-filled days:**

_**Dferveiro**_

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_**Psalm 136**_

_**SilverrAngell**_

_**Tadsgirl**_

_**BlueSapphire92**_

**And here's to my subscribers/people who put this on their favorites list (just to the non-reviewers)!**

_**Esuslol**_

_**PopsiclesShouldBeTheNewBlack**_

_**Sakura123**_

_**Steggy Likes Juice Boxes**_

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_**Thealmightyspork**_

_**Mark of Destruction**_

_**Saru92**_

**And I demand that everyone reading this story right now reviews it. Even my anonymous readers—I take anonymous reviews as well! **

**I hope you all enjoyed this and I will miss you all.**

**Bye!**

**-Old Fiat s. Italy**


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